


Athene Noctua

by pickleplum



Series: Owl and Dragon [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Trust Issues, Wingfic, Wings, winged!Hermann
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 66,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Drift Newt learns what's under all of Hermann's ill-fitting layers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Personal space, Drifting, revelation, and goodnight

Everything’s too desperate and rushed for thinking until all of LOCCENT hears Raleigh Becket’s voice over the comm link. As applause and cheers fill the air, Newt mentally flails for a moment while his brain catches up with the fact _Hermann_ hugged him. Five years of living in close quarters, four years of letters, twelve years of knowing of each other’s existence, and it’s the first time the physicist lets Newt touch more than his hand or arm.

Newt thought it was a personal space thing until … well, the Drift.

Now he has almost enough questions to make his head spin, but Hermann is looking at him in a way Newt’s pretty sure means he’ll die a very messy death if he asks before Hermann is ready to answer. That’s alright. He can wait. For a little while at least.

The party sort of swallows Newt and it’s several hours and a number of adult beverages before he notices Hermann has totally and, let’s be honest, typically, vanished. Newt figures he’ll be in the usual place—his room—so he sways off in that direction.

He’s generally not big on social niceties, but Newt actually knocks at Hermann’s door and waits to be invited inside. The Drift wasn’t quite enough preparation for this. He freezes like a rabbit in headlights while he processes the sight in front of him: Hermann wearing less than five layers of clothing. In fact, he’s clad only in pajama pants. The man’s torso is bare. Almost.

Hermann’s wings (or _WINGS_!, as Newt’s brain refers to them) are folded against his back covering him from the tops of his shoulders to just below his waistband as he lies face down on the bed, head resting on his crossed arms. The feathers are a rich reddish-brown not unlike Hermann’s hair and are liberally smudged with white. Newt can’t pull his eyes from the way the auburn of the scapulars contrasts with the man’s pale skin and the sheer length of the primaries and their serrated leading edges that say ‘owl’ in no uncertain terms.

"This is too perfect, dude," he says, only a smidgen too loudly. "The Little Owl. _Athene noctua._ ‘Wisdom goddess of the night.’ Athena’s owl. They fit you."

The wings twitch nervously, then settle as Hermann turns his face to Newt. "I didn’t know that. I never thought to ask from what species they were taken," he says quietly.

"That semester of vertebrate taxonomy paid off, I guess," Newt says with a shrug as he lets himself slide down the door to sit on the rug. "Listen, I’m not going to say anything about," he gestures vaguely to Hermann, "this, so you don’t, like, have to kill me or take out my vocal cords or tongue or anything like that, even though you’ve probably wanted to do that for _years_ already … ." He finally notices the somewhat amused expression on Hermann’s face. "I’m babbling, aren’t I? I should probably just shut up, but it’s really hard because this is completely surreal and I’m kinda overwhelmed because, holy shit, dude, you’re a genius _and_ a biological marvel with wings that _work_ and they just look so fucking gorgeous on you and … I maybe had a little _tiny_ bit too much to drink at the victory party."

"I would never have suspected," Hermann says with a mock sincerity emphasized by a slow flexing of his wings. "Inebriation aside, how do you feel?" he asks, his tone concerned.

"Awesome, sore, and like my head is going to explode any second. So, kinda an average I-just-saved-the-world sort of day. Also, sorta nauseous and tired enough to collapse." He squints through the unbroken lens of his glasses. "How ‘bout you?"

"The same," Hermann replies, breaking into one of his rare smiles, "without the nausea. I know better than to drink after suffering traumatic brain injury." The smile twists into a smirk.

"Aw, any excuse to skip a party," Newt scoffs. "Seriously, though, I really could pass out at any moment and I was hoping, maybe, you’d let me sleep in here, with you? Not _with you_ with you, I mean. The floor would be fine." He finishes in a whisper; "I don’t want to be alone."

"I must insist you stay where I can keep an eye on you tonight. You’ve caused me quite enough worry for one day." Hermann seems to reconsider the amount of care evident in his voice and assumes a snarkier tone. "I’m also not so cruel as to make you sleep on the floor, you nitwit. As long as you stay on the outside and try not to grab … them in your sleep, it will be fine." He gives Newt a considering look. "After you shower, of course. I’m not letting you into my bed in your current state. You can use my facilities so I can come to your rescue if you fall."

"That would make it, what, three times in twenty-four hours you’d have saved my butt? Does that make you my guardian angel?" Newt teases.

"Shut up and bathe, Geiszler," Hermann growls, waving the wing closest to Newt as if to push him in the direction of the bathroom. "You’re obviously too tired and drunk to think properly." Newt ducks into the bathroom before he sees the faint blush spreading across Hermann’s cheeks.

It’s unexpectedly easy for the two men to arrange themselves in bed given their notorious struggle to share a workspace. Whether they’re too exhausted to argue or a bunk designed for a single burly soldier is actually roomy enough for two diminutive scientists, they quickly find comfortable positions with Hermann on his stomach and scootched a bit closer to the wall than his usual and Newt curled on his side hugging a spare pillow to his chest. Within minutes Newt is snoring softly. Hermann allows himself a fond sigh as he stretches his wings. Before folding them against his back, he hesitates, then gently drapes one over Newt’s sleeping form.

Newt wakes at some ungodly hour feeling much too hot. He tries to shove away the quilt stretched over him, only to touch a raft of feathers. He freezes. _Right_. _Wings_. Giving in to his legendary poor impulse control, he strokes from the alula to the very tips of the primaries in front of him. Hermann grumbles and the wing flexes once, smacking Newt solidly in the face. Newt grins, brushes powder down from his nose and cheeks before it can make him sneeze, kicks off the regulation blanket, and curls up closer to his bedmate, allowing Hermann’s wing to cover and warm him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Little Owl](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_owl) is one of the most common owls in the world and is the usual model for the bird that accompanies the Greek goddess of wisdom, Athena, hence the scientific name. I actually chose it for my model based on its coloration before I found out about the horribly appropriate symbolism it carries.
> 
> I had to take a [crash course in feather nomenclature](http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_luxu0eQ9KW1r1s6we.jpg) to make sure Newt sounded like a well-informed biologist. Yeah, he may be more into aliens, but I doubt he could have made it through any sort of biology degree without a more general vertebrate anatomy course. Considering I got my first inkling that feathers were classified more carefully than just “flight feathers”, “down”, and “feathers” from [reading about non-avian dinosaurs](http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2013/06/dino-bird-field-guide/), there may be other reasons he would know the proper names.
> 
> If there’s interest, I have headcanon on where the wings come from (which also explains the parental estrangement) I could beat into shape and post.


	2. Curiosity, origin stories, family ties, and binders

Newt wakes cold and shivers, Hermann having withdrawn the warmth of his wing at some point.

"Oh, good," Hermann sighs from behind him, rolled eyes apparent in his voice. "I feared you planned to sleep all day."

"Cut me some slack, Hermann. I saved the world yesterday and starred at the party of the century. I can sleep late if I want." Newt stretches, hooking his fingers around the bars of the headboard, trying to pull the ache out of his back. "I’m sure _you_ have incredibly detailed and exciting plans for your first day as the guy who saved the guy who saved the world, probably involving math and chalk."

"It is a comfort to see probable brain damage has not affected your inflated sense of self-importance," Hermann replies dryly. Newt rolls over and punches him gently on the shoulder in mock indignation. Hermann glares at him and elbows him in the stomach hard enough to make Newt’s eyes water. "I’m not going to the lab today," Hermann continues. "All of yesterday’s excitement has left me much too sore to be productive. My time is best spent resting." He props himself up on his elbows. "Now, would you kindly get out of my way so I may go about my morning?"

"Dude, why didn’t you just climb over me?" Newt asks as he gingerly sits up in deference to his slightly spinning head and eases himself off the mattress to stagger across the small room and lean against the desk.

"I didn’t want to wake you. I’m aware of the fact you hadn’t slept in fifty-three hours before last night."

Newt blinks. "You were counting?" he asks and Hermann shrugs in response before grabbing his cane and limping to the bathroom. As he goes, Newt notices the stripe of of downy white feathers along his spine from the nape of his neck to his waistband. _No wonder he does up the top button_. _I wonder if they're soft_.

"There is orange juice in the fridge and instant coffee and an electric kettle in the cupboard above the sink," he says over his shoulder as he closes the door.

When Hermann re-emerges a few minutes later he leans heavily on his cane and flexes his wings to their full extent, then pushes them through two lazy beats, moving a puff of stale Shatterdome air through the small space of his quarters. Crossing the room, he settles into the desk chair backwards, rests his arms on the back, and drops his chin onto them. He spreads his three-quarters open and flexes them intermittently as he watches Newt sip his coffee.

Newt arranges himself on the floor, knees drawn up and back against the closet door. "Okay. I’m dying from curiosity, here, and I really, really, really don’t want to pry—okay, I totally do—but if you want to, you know, talk about it, I’m completely willing to listen."

"You’re going to be insufferable until I do, aren’t you?"

"More than likely. I mean, I’m staring at something extraordinary and, as a scientist, it’s sort of my deal to investigate and learn freakin’ everything I can. Or everything you’ll tell me without having to kill me." "Plus it’ll distract me from my hangover. I don’t know where Tendo got that stuff, but it hit like a Jaeger … ." He lets his head loll back and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Fine. I suppose I’ll have to if I want to maintain my sanity." Hermann closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "These," he begins as he stretches the wings to their full extent, "are not the result of mutation or alien interference any other comic book fantasy you may be harboring. I’m not one of your ‘X-Men’. I’m the creation of a geneticist."

"Someone did … this? Thirty-six years ago? We weren’t even cloning sheep back then!" Newt yelps as soon as he fights through his momentary shock. "Or did they, like, artificially age you and you’re really only a teenager? Which would make it so much weirder that you act like you’re ninety. And that you were writing such great letters to me as an infant."

"I am exactly as old as I claim to be," he answers. "My mother was a … brilliant woman. She used herself as a test subject in her research into cross-species gene splicing and activation. I’m her greatest success," he spits with more bitterness than Newt has ever heard him summon. "She built me. I am essentially her clone with a few … ah, tweaks."

"Duuude." Newt doesn’t bother to hide his amazement. " _She cloned a human thirty-six years ago_?! And somehow managed to splice in owl genes to create functional wings?! Why doesn’t she have a Nobel Prize? Why isn’t every biologist using her techniques? I would give an arm to know how she did this!"

"Thankfully for your manual dexterity, she destroyed her research notes soon after my birth," Hermann snaps. "My father did not … approve of her experimentation on humans. She thought he would relent and throw his support behind her when he saw ‘his’ beautiful winged son." He shakes his head. "She was desperately wrong. My father threatened to expose her if she tried again and forced her to purge all of her equipment, samples, and notes. She died young and all her knowledge was lost with her."

"Oh, man. What a loss. Still, no wonder you’re so brilliant, sharing those genes. Jesus."

Hermann stiffens and glares at Newt, wings flaring slightly. "I am not a simulacrum. I am my own person."

"No shit. Obviously." Newt holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "I’m just sayin’ … ," he says and pauses to collect his thoughts. "I get it, though, sort of. It’s like all the people who assume I have perfect pitch because of my parents when I can’t carry a tune to save my life. Genes aren’t destiny; They’re potential. And you have definitely exploited that potential, Hermann."

"I … uh … thank you, Newton," Hermann replies quietly, a slight blush sneaking across his cheeks.

Newt’s eyes suddenly widen and he asks "This have anything to do with your father’s deal with you?"

Hermann nods. "He considers me an abomination, if an occasionally useful one. I think he was relieved when I elected to remain with the Jaeger program. He finally had a socially acceptable reason to shun me."

"‘Abomination’? Dude, that’s harsh. How can a father think something like that?"

"He’s not genetically my father, remember?" He smiles ruefully. "Besides, you’ve met the man. Holding such depth of loathing for another human being is not unusual for him." Newt snorts a laugh in agreement and Hermann matches it. "I suppose we should defer the rest of this conversation in order to eat something. I’m afraid I have nothing suitable on hand, so we’ll need to dress and make our way to the mess hall."

"Oh, man. Let’s just go in our jammies. Everyone’s going to be too busy or hungover to notice or care." Hermann clears his throat and waves his wings meaningfully. "Oh, right. _You_ need to get dressed. _I’m_ staying like this. Can I borrow your slippers?"

Without waiting for an answer, Newt fumbles on his hands and knees for what he vaguely remembers is a pair of plaid slippers like his grandfather would have worn. He cheers weakly when he finally locates the footwear.

After he scrambles out from under the bed, he watches with open fascination as Hermann deftly arranges a garment made of elasticized fabric and a few straps and buckles over his wings and across his chest. He cinches it tight, pressing his wings nearly flat to his back. The construction and effect reminds Newt of the binders some of his friends used, but … meaner.

"God, that looks like it hurts," he finally blurts.

Hermann starts a little midway through pulling on his undershirt. "It is comfortable enough."

"Well, if you’re not totally opposed to the idea, I’m going to rig up something better for you."

"After lunch," Hermann corrects as he finishes layering up for the day.

"Well, of course," Newt says, offering his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. The sort-of-handwavy science backstory is out of the way.
> 
> Why does Newt keep sitting on the floor when there’s a perfectly good bed, chair, or desktop handy, you ask? A little bit of psychology. He’s giving Hermann a dominant position to make him feel safer and more relaxed, more in control of what’s happening. In short, Newt’s trying to be extra kind and supportive, at the price of his own comfort, without throwing it in Hermann’s face.
> 
> I don’t know how it’s happening, but I’ve still got enough material left to craft at least one more chapter. Weird.


	3. Adjustments, ghost Drifts, and new habits

"They must have emptied the pantry for this," Newt remarks as he surveys the small feast the cook staff has laid out in the mess hall. He loads a tray with generous portions of food for himself and Hermann under the other man’s watchful supervision. They find an empty table and sit down. Hermann notes with a flash of satisfaction that no one in the room sits alone and a pleasant hum of conversation fills the air.

Newt pauses between mouthfuls and studies Hermann across the table. "I never noticed before, but you actually eat like a normal human being," he says. "I thought you survived on baby carrots and air. Why the heck are you so skinny?"

"I have an accelerated metabolism. It’s nearly impossible for me to maintain a healthy weight."

"So you have to eat like a bird?" Newt asks earnestly. "Like, an actual bird. Not a proverbial one."

If glares could kill, Newt would be a bloody smudge on the far wall of the mess. That not being the case, Hermann visibly contemplates violence involving his fork.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Newt yelps as he brandishes his empty tray like a shield in front of his face. "I just meant that you need to eat all the time! Or you need lots of high quality food!" He peeks over the tray and whispers, "I won’t make a mistake like that again! _Pleasedon’tkillme_." Hermann grunts and turns his attention back to his meal, much to Newt’s relief.

On the way out, Newt snags some more food for later, figuring that neither he nor Hermann will want to make the trip back to the mess in the evening. They walk slowly, pausing regularly for Hermann to rest and flex his right knee.

"I’m afraid even that little exercise has done me in. I’m going to have a bit of a lie-down," Hermann says as he smothers a yawn soon after arriving back at his quarters. "You’re … ah … welcome to join me, Newton."

"Umm … I think I’ll pass. Might’ve had too much coffee with lunch." Newt puts the takeout into the fridge, then deposits himself in Hermann’s desk chair. "You going to sleep in your clothes? Need help changing? You look pretty sore … ," he asks. In answer, Hermann shuts himself in the bathroom and returns in the same flannel pants he had worn the previous night. He’s asleep almost immediately.

Newt pads to the closet and digs out what seems to be Hermann’s spare binder for closer examination. He spreads it out on the desk and draws its construction with quick lines on an envelope. The principle is simple enough. He borrows Hermann’s tablet and skims trans and genderfluid advice forums for inspiration and starts sketching on the back of some official memo. An idea strikes and he visits a few sites devoted to caring for birds to make sure his ideas won’t wind up hurting Hermann. Newt makes a few adjustments to better distribute the pressure away from the most delicate feathers and to help the wing bones settle comfortably. He’s satisfied, even a little proud of the design, and makes a short list of the materials he needs. Everything should be available in the city. If not, the internet will provide.

He stands up, stretches, and carefully returns the binder to where he found it. He grabs a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and takes a big gulp before sitting back down on the edge of the desk, feet swinging, to relax. Newt grins as he watches Hermann dream. The man’s wings twitch and flutter in response to whatever is going on in his mind.

He turns Hermann’s tablet back on and reads his way through a few fan-translated manga he followed, alternating between them and quick scans of world news feeds searching for mentions of himself. And Hermann, too. As he reaches a cliffhanger, he pauses and looks at his … friend, re-running the morning’s conversation.

 _What a hell of a secret to keep for so long_ , he thinks. _How did he get through school physicals_? _Doctor appointments_? _Romantic relationships_? _Jesus_. _Has he been totally alone his entire life_? _Because his mom wanted to show off the size of her scientific dick_? _Oh_ , _man_. _It’s no wonder he got so upset when I started talking about Drifting with kaiju_. _He probably started having genius mad scientist PTSD flashbacks_.

He occupies his nervous hands by flipping the tablet over and over. _But_ … _think how much he must trust me_ , _letting me in like this_. _God_ , _I’m probably closer to him than anyone_ , _ever_. _That’s_ … . The tablet slips from his fingers and hits the floor with a loud thud.

Hermann jerks awake the same instant Newt winces. Hermann cracks a bloodshot eye and fixes Newt with a glare. "If you’ve damaged that, you’ll need to replace it," he growls with a sleep-thickened voice.

"No, no. It’s fine. See?" Newt retrieves and holds up the device, turning the display to Hermann and thumbing it on.

Hermann squints at the screen. "Kindly clear the browser history when you finish, Newton. It appears my assumption of our differing preferences in light reading is correct." He sighs, turns to face the wall, and resumes his nap.

Newt blushes violently as he realizes what image he’d shown Hermann and facepalms hard enough to blur his vision a little. "It _had_ to be the _one_ tentacle panel in the _entire_ series," he groans.

Newt starts fidgeting even worse. He needs to get out of there before he accidentally wakes Hermann. He decides music is the answer and makes his way to his music corner. He loses himself in sound for a while, not thinking of anything in particular, until hunger pulls him back to Hermann’s quarters and the food he’d stashed there. The other man is still asleep.

"Hey, Hermann?" he calls quietly. The man’s wings flare as his eyes open. "Sorry, but I think you should get up and eat something. You have meds to take, too, right?" Hermann grumbles, but separates himself from the bed to swallow a handful of pills with a gulp from the orange juice bottle. "You drink straight from the container?" Newt squeaks in surprise. "I wouldn’t have thought." Hermann glares at the bottle in his hand, then turns the full force of th expression on Newt.

"No, I don’t," he says slowly and carefully. "It must be the result of a ghost Drift." He brandishes the juice and shakes it a little in suppressed anger. "This is your fault." Newt laughs at the disgusted curl to Hermann’s lips.

"Don’t worry too much, Hermann. We’ll probably catch me extending my pinky next time I have a cup of coffee or borrowing one of your sweatervests before too long." Hermann chuckles and Newt fights not to join in. "Oh yeah! I worked out a new design for a binder while you were asleep. Let me grab it." He passes over the sketch and Hermann studies it, then flips it over to skim the memo on the back.

"Newton? Since when do you use good-one-side paper for drawing? I thought you said it stifled your creativity." A smile creeps across Hermann’s face.

"It does!" Newt protests. "That’s one of your habits, isn’t it? I caught this from you!" Hermann’s smile grows wider as Newt stares at the memo in horror.

"Indeed, it is. Waste not, want not and all that." Hermann pulls an innocent face. "I’m still hoping to see you in a sweatervest, though."

"Yeah, well, that’s less funny than the idea of you in jeans, grandpa." Hermann snorts.

"I’m more likely to throw myself in the harbor than do that."

"Yeah, well, promise me you won’t do that, okay?" Newt studies his boots for a moment. "If you go I won’t have anyone to argue with."

"Of course," Hermann says dismissively. "I was merely comparing two extremely unlikely possibilities." He pauses. "Yes. I believe I’m going to turn in for the night."

"Can I join you?" Newt asks softly. Hermann looks at him suspiciously, but inclines his head in assent.

Newt slips into bed beside Hermann and, after the barest hesitation, snuggles up against Hermann’s side. Hermann doesn’t protest. In fact, he leans into the contact, just a little. Newt smiles as he begins to doze and grins when Hermann offers a wing as a covering.

Hermann wakes during the night and spends a minute or two listening to Newt’s steady breathing. As he slips back under, he realizes he hasn’t slept so well since he was a child.

Newt opens his eyes at some point during the night and takes a few minutes to listen to Hermann breathing steadily beside him. As he yields to sleep again, he reflects on how he hasn’t slept this well since he was a little kid.


	4. TV, health care, and nightmares

Hermann wakes alone, a warm hollow in the mattress where Newt had been. Somehow beginning the morning this way feels different than it had the previous 13,001 days he had done so. "I thought I was immune to this," he mumbles as he eases himself to his feet and limps to his morning medication. Hermann retrieves the orange juice to down his pills. He unscrews the lid and begins to lift it to his lips before very deliberately setting it down on the counter. He scowls at it, retrieves a glass from the cupboard, and fills it.

"Still having ghost Drift issues, Hermann?" Newt teases as he steps out of the bathroom dressed and toweling his hair dry. Hermann startles violently and nearly loses his footing. Newt drops the towel and grabs hold of his arm before he topples. Hermann jumps again. He stares, confused, at Newt's hand on his skin. Newt's gaze flicks between Hermann's face and his own hand. He leaves it in place for an indecisive beat before letting it drop to drum fingers nervously against his thigh. "So … breakfast after a shower?"

"Then the lab, yes." Hermann nods and walks toward the bathroom before pausing. "I suppose we should tell someone we haven’t died or turned into kaiju."

"Oh yeah!" Newt says, snapping his fingers. "We probably need to collect our 'big damn heroes' medals."

"Do they give medals for that or is the reward a shiny hat?" Hermann raises an eyebrow.

"Are you serious? Only bad guys wear hats!"

"Except for cunning hats sent by their mothers."

"Oh. My. God," Newt says with breathy amazement. "I don’t believe it. We just had a conversation composed entirely of references to a cult TV show from when we were kids. That I had no idea you watched. I didn't think you even knew what a TV was."

"I don't," Hermann says, his face as straight as a yardstick. "I rely on my laptop for entertainment."

Newt stares open-mouthed for a moment then chokes on a laugh. He doubles over as he tries and mostly fails to breathe. Hermann glares at him, an expression that shifts to one of pure horror as he replays his own words. "You are such a child," he snarls before fleeing into the bathroom, taking his tomato-red cheeks with him.

As Hermann leaves the shower Newt steals a glance at him, noting the twisted shape of his right knee and the crooked ridge of an improperly healed break on his shin. He winces sympathetically. Hermann catches the motion and meets Newt’s eyes with a glare. He closes the bathroom door with a bang.

Something about the noise triggers a flash of residual Drift in Newt’s mind: A roof, the wind, a sharp crack, blinding pain, blood. Newt shakes his head to clear the images.

When Hermann finally emerges, Newt addresses him gently. "You were a kid. You couldn’t have known they wouldn’t lift you." Anger creeps into his voice as he continues. "Your family should have taken you to a doctor and had that treated properly."

"Reveal the family secret to an outsider?" Hermann scoffs. "My parents thought it better to leave me crippled. I was already weak, sickly, and disfigured, how much worse could a lame leg make matters?"

"You’re their son!" Newt shrieks, fists shaking at his sides.

Hermann shrugs. "They did what they felt they had to do."

"What a bunch of assholes," Newt grumbles. "So, uh, what do you do for doctors now? The annual physicals? Do the brass know about … uh, this?"

"No, they don’t," he answers emphatically. "My eldest brother is a physician. He takes care of any documentation and treatment I require."

"But doesn’t he live in Europe somewhere? What do you do if you get sick? Or hurt?"

"In Geneva. If I get sick, I get well on my own," Hermann says dispassionately.

"You’re insane!" Newt yelps once he picks his jaw off the floor.

"Drifting with you wasn’t proof enough of that?" Hermann smirks back.

At the close of the day, they settle into bed as they had the previous nights. This time, however, neither of them asks or grants permission. As they search for comfortable positions Hermann cautiously edges nearer to Newt who meets him in the middle of the mattress smiling.

"Hermann? You ever have flying dreams?" The man hums an affirmative. "What’re they like?"

"I imagine they are much like yours," he says with a shrug. "Sun. Wind. A view of the treetops."

"Yeah," Newt responds. "Mine usually end with me falling to earth or getting sucked into a jet intake, though. I bet you get to soar longer and land softly." His voice carries jealousy along with curiosity.

"No. No, I don’t think our dreams are dissimilar. Mine end poorly as well, although I find myself in a cage instead of a turbine."

"Oh," Newt says with surprise. "That's not what I thought from watching you. Your wings always move pretty calmly."

Hermann pushes himself up on his elbows and looks down at Newt. "You've been watching me sleep?"

"It's not like I have anything better to do in the dark waiting for you to wake up." He chuckles. "Well, I can think of _one_ thing, maybe, but that would be plain weird," he says.

"We are not discussing that," Hermann growls with finality, glaring at Newt with a force the other man can feel.

"No-no, of course we're not," Newt replies. An uncomfortable pause full of nervous shifting follows, until Hermann stills and breaks the quiet.

"The cage is my greatest nightmare and one I revisit often." He speaks softly and with effort, as though fighting with himself to form the words. "I wait for the men who will dissect me to arrive. They want to discover how I was built by taking me apart." Hermann pauses and Newt catches himself holding his breath. "If I don't wake up quickly enough," Hermann continues, "I feel them make the first incisions." They both shiver. After a beat, Hermann tucks his wings more tightly around them.

"Hermann," Newt says as he places a hand on the other man's shoulder, "that's not going to happen while I'm around. If anyone is going to take you apart, it's going to be me."

Hermann is silent for a moment. "If that was meant to be comforting, Newton, it failed miserably at the task," he declares.

"Oh, for … ," an exasperated Newt begins as Hermann cuts him off.

"Good _night_ , Newton."

"Goodnight. Umm. Sweet dreams." Hermann grumbles something unintelligible in response as Newt smiles into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They started getting out of control in this chapter. What was supposed to be a one chapter bromance/friendship fic is now looking to be at least six chapters long and the little babies are trying very hard to drag it in a less Gen direction.


	5. Public appearances, snappy dressing, and playing doctor

Newt jolts to consciousness when a sharp elbow jabs him in the ribs. "Get up, Geiszler," Hermann snarls. "I'm late taking my medications and we need to be ready for a press conference this morning."

"Awww … ," Newt whines, "five more minutes." He buries his head under his pillow.

"No. Get up." Newt's negative response is muffled. A wicked smile grows on Hermann's face. Very deliberately, he begins to flap his wings, which both strips Newt of his covering and pushes waves of cool air across his back.

"Ah! Stop it!" he yelps, removing the pillow to make sure Hermann hears him. "I'm going to freeze to death!"

"You most certainly will not. You will, however, be much more comfortable if you get out of bed," Hermann says reasonably without stilling his wings.

"Ugh. Fine, you sadist," Newt huffs and drags himself to his feet. Hermann allows himself a smug smile as he follows Newt to the edge of the mattress, but he wobbles badly getting to his feet. He beats his wings to help maintain his balance. He straightens and has his cane in hand before Newt can extend a steadying hand. Newt lets his hand hang there pointlessly for a moment before using it to rub the back of his neck. "I have to run back to my place for my public appearance clothes," he says. "Meet you here when I'm ready so we can make our grand entrance together?" Hermann nods and is rewarded with a high-wattage smile.

He locks the door after Newt skips down the hall. He leans his forehead against the cool metal and pulls his wings closely around himself. "I cannot allow myself to become used to this," he murmurs. "It can only end badly."

Hermann binds his wings and dons the PPDC blue suit and tie he reserves for occasions like this. He feels exposed and vulnerable without his sweater and checks his outline in the mirror repeatedly. Twice he strips off his shirts and jacket to tighten the binder, only stopping when his wings joints are nearly hyperflexed under the restraint. They'll be painfully sore later, but he would stretch them thoroughly and it would ease. Hermann hunches his shoulders and studies himself again. He is satisfied that any oddity of his shape would be marked down to poor posture.

He fiddles with the knot in his tie until a knock sounds at the door. He opens it to reveal Newt, who wears a pressed white shirt to Hermann's complete astonishment. Aside from the crisp crease in his collar, Newt looks as he does most days: boots, jeans, skinny tie, and carefully manicured bedhead.

"Maybe I should have a key," he says with a grin. Hermann sniffs noncommittally. "You look sharp today. Where've you been hiding the last five years, handsome?" At Newt's playful remark, Hermann scowls.

"Honestly, Newton," Hermann says, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Let me knot your tie properly since you seem utterly incapable of doing so."

"What? It looks fine." Hermann's deft fingers undo the strangled knot at Newt's throat and rapidly re-tie the fabric into a different shape. "What sort of boring thing did you do to me, dude?" Newt examines himself in the mirror. "That's a crazy knot. I've never seen it before."

"It's called a Trinity. What do you think?"

"You and me and Kodachi make three … ," Newt says quietly as he turns and heads for the door.

Hermann falls into step beside him. "What are you nattering about?" he asks.

"Just a little rhyme about the three of us who saved the world."

"It required more than three people, Newton, and exactly who or what is Kodachi?"

"It’s what I named the baby kaiju we Drifted with. Tendo put it in the records, even," Newt says before pausing for effect. "So, technically, you were wrong. There were two triple events." From there the conversation devolves into a fairly good-natured argument which continues until a communications tech clips microphones to their collars.

The press conference turns into a day-long gauntlet of interviews, presentations, and meaningless social interaction with strangers. After reciting what he’s allowed to say about the final day of the war for what must be the thirtieth time, Newt’s energy starts to flag. From across the room he notices Hermann’s exhaustion and begins to work his way through the crowd of suits and ties toward the edge of the room and his lab partner.

A tall man paying too much attention to his date bumps solidly into Hermann, who loses his balance and falls against the wall at his back. A look of pain flashes across his face before he composes his features to accept the couple's helping hands and profuse apologies.

Newt elbows a path through the last several yards between himself and Hermann. "You okay?" he asks.

Hermann's voice is tight as he responds. "Perfectly fine."

"Ready to bail? I've had enough." Hermann looks stunned and Newt shrugs. "Even I have limits. Don't tell anyone." He raises his voice and addresses the small crowd that has gathered to talk to the two scientists. "Sorry, folks. We heroes have another pressing engagement. Have your people call our people. Goodnight!" He links his arm with Hermann's and they stroll out, waving to an envious Tendo Choi as they go.

Back in his quarters, Hermann quickly sheds his jacket, tie, and shirts. Newt stares as he fumbles with the buckles of the binder. "Shit, dude. You put that on too tight. You're going to hurt yourself doing that."

"I assure you, I'm fine." The binder falls away and Hermann slowly spreads his wings. He hisses and pulls the right against his back, color draining from his face. Newt looks at him with concern.

"You _did_ hurt yourself."

"It is a cramp." He tries to open the wing again, this time whimpering as pain forces him to retract it.

"That's not a cramp, dude. Let me take a look at it."

"Newton, I'm fine," Hermann snaps.

Newt climbs onto the desktop behind his friend to get a better view of the injured limb. He pushes his fingers through the russet feathers along the wing's leading edge, probing for the sore spot. Hermann cries out and twists away when Newt touches the notch midway along the radius.

"It's broken, Hermann. Simple break, but you need to have this set."

"Then set it, Doctor."

" _What?_ " Newt's voice cracks in disbelief.

"Set. It," he says through gritted teeth.

Newt holds up his hands. "Whoawhoawhoa! I'm not _that_ kind of doctor!"

"You are the closest to one who is available to me."

"Hermann, don't be an idiot. Let's get the real doctor."

"You set the bone or it will not be set at all. It will heal regardless." Hermann sounds much too reasonable about his statement.

"Please don't ask me to do this," Newt begs. Hermann only stares implacably in response. "You are the most stubborn, dumbest genius I've ever seen." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Let me figure out the best way to stabilize it and get some supplies from the lab. Don't … move too much before I get back. You might pull it further out of place."

He's really going to make me do this, Newt thinks as he searches through veterinary medicine websites for the information he needs. I can't just leave it to heal in its own. If he keeps acting like nothing's wrong, it'll only get worse. He might end up with a bum wing to match his bad leg. He might anyway if I screw this up. At least I’m pretty good under pressure.

Newt returns from the lab with an armful of supplies. He gestures for Hermann to sit in the desk chair and drops his materials onto the work surface. "This might help a little. It's a numbing gel I use when I get burned. I don't have any real anesthetic." He pulls on a pair of gloves and saturates the feathers near the break with gel, hoping enough of it will reach Hermann’s skin to make what’s coming next hurt a little less. Newt takes a deep breath and tries to relax the tremor out of his hands and pulse. "On one. Three … two … one."

He presses his thumbs against the mismatched edges of the bone until he feels them click into proper alignment. Hermann lets out the breath he'd been holding and wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. "I'm going to splint it and wrap you up now. This tape might damage some of your feathers, but I don't have anything better to hold it in place while you heal." He lays the thin metal strut he liberated from one of his worktables along the broken bone and secures it with numerous strips of sticky medical tape, then wraps gauze around the wing in a figure-eight. Finally, he winds the last of the fabric around Hermann's chest, gently pinning his wing in place. "Is this pinching at all? Can you move it?" Hermann shakes his head.

Newt collapses flat on the bed. After a moment, he props himself up on his elbow to stare at Hermann. "Don't you _dare_ ask me if you can wear the binder over this. You can't. I won't let you. I'm your doctor and those are my orders," he declares.

"How am I supposed to go about my work unbound?"

"I can wrap the other one for you in the morning and you can dress like you normally do. Or you can stay in here and work with your tablet or on paper. n Now, pretend you're a good patient and take your pain medication and let me help you change for bed. I know you use your wings for balance, so I'm helping. You're not breaking anything else today." Hermann scowls. "What pills do you normally take and how many of each?" Hermann lists what turns out to be a small handful of capsules that he swallows in a single gulp with water.

As Hermann grumbles and the analgesics obviously begin kick in, Newt helps him change into his sleepwear and keeps a close watch on him as he shuffles to the bed. "You're kinda fragile, aren't you?" he asks. "You torqued a bone and all it took was a bump to snap it."

"My bones are hollow, Newton. They break easily," Hermann says as he arranges himself on the mattress.

Newt stops and stares. "Hollow? And how easily is 'easily'?"

"One fractures nearly every time I have a hard fall. It is so common I hardly notice any but the worst." Newt gapes, for once speechless. "Perhaps now you understand my insistence on keeping footpaths clear and dry."

"How much pain are you in all the time, Hermann?" Newt asks softly.

Hermann sighs. "You saw my prescription shelf when you retrieved my evening pills. What others might term 'considerable', I accept as normal."

"Jesus, Hermann. You are way too used to suffering. We’ve got to do something about that," he says as he eases himself into bed.

"We take what life sees fit to give us, Newton." He turns his face to the wall. "There’s no other choice. Goodnight."

As Newt dozes off, he feels Hermann drape his uninjured wing across his back and swears he hears the man whisper ‘thank you’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d never seen a [Trinity knot](http://agreeordie.com/features/fashion/626-how-to-tie-a-necktie-trinity-knot) before and thought it was pretty cool and rare enough to make everyone happy.
> 
> Now looking at seven chapters, minimum, but they played nice as I worked today, so that's something.


	6. Brothers and sisters, checking email, math, and self-loathing

The low throb of pain from his right wing pulls Hermann out of sleep. He tries to flex it and stretch out the cause of the ache, but it doesn’t obey his request to unfold. He nearly panics, mind flooding with images from thousands of dreams of dissection. Forcing himself to breathe, he analyzes the situation. He’s in his own room, in his own bed, with Newton pressed against his side sleeping peacefully. Newton. Newton’s hands on his wing last night, pushing a broken bone back into place, then immobilizing it to help it heal properly.

Why hadn’t I told Newton about the risks I face from falls earlier? Because I didn’t—don’t—trust him, not outside of his skill as a scientist. Certainly he behaves as a friend now, but that will surely change when the novelty of friendship with an engineered monster wears off. I probably remind him of his beloved kaiju. Still, there can be no harm in taking pleasure and comfort from his closeness while it lasts. So long as I don’t allow myself to become too attached, it will work out.

Ignoring the pain for the moment, Hermann closes his eyes again and lets himself drift off with his forehead resting against the back of Newt’s shoulder, pressed to the kaiju wing tattooed there.

When he wakes for the second time that morning, Newt is gently shaking him and looking down with obvious concern. "You okay?" he asks. "I think you were having a nightmare."

"Ah, yes, I was. My apologies for disturbing you." Newt waves off Hermann’s words.

"You want to talk about it?" He sits up with his back against the headboard and watches Hermann carefully.

"There’s nothing to tell, really," Hermann says dismissively. "It was only another dream of being the subject of scientific inquiry."

"All I _do_ is dissect things. With dreams like those, how do you share workspace with me, dude?"

Hermann sighs. "It is amazing what a person can grow used to given enough motivation and determination. The work of stopping the kaiju and of making a contribution to humanity provided more than enough of the former."

"Aw. Here I was hoping you’d say my smiling face or my charming personality."

"If your face and personality were the only attractions holding me at my post, I would have resigned long ago."

"You said ‘only’! That means my attractiveness _is_ part of the reason you hang around!" Newt crows in triumph, pointing a finger at Hermann’s face.

Hermann rolls his eyes. "Don’t be ridiculous. Perhaps we should have you re-checked for brain damage at Medical."

"You’re no fun," Newt pouts. "I suppose I should take a look at how my repair job is holding up." The two clamber out of bed. Newt examines Hermann’s wing and removes the pieces of tape that have loosened overnight, taking a feather or two with each one, making Hermann wince, then carefully replaces them. He applies a fresh wrapping to hold the wing still.

"You’ll need me to re-tape this every day or two. It’s going to take weeks, at least, for you to heal. You’re lucky Doctor Geiszler makes house calls." Newt poses with his hands on his hips and a proud smile.

"You sound entirely too pleased with this situation, Newton."

"What can I say? I like playing doctor," Newt says with a shrug.

"You’re incorrigible," Hermann grumbles and Newt laughs.

"Completely guilty," he says. "We’re short on food. Anything you want me to pick up from the mess for you?"

"I’d appreciate some fruit and whatever basic protein they have."

While Newt retrieves breakfast, Hermann picks up his tablet and skims his personal email, which he'd neglected since the day of the double event. Interview requests, messages from old colleagues, offers of university positions. A letter from his father which he deletes without reading. Notes from his siblings.

Bastien:

>   
>  Big brother! I bet my roommate £20 you had something to do with ending the war. It was probably the easiest 20 I'll ever make. Thanks, bro! Dinner is on me next time you're in London. Love you.  
> 

Karla:

>   
>  Hermann, answer me, you jerk, before I fly to Hong Kong to find you. You're too tough for those kaiju to have killed you, so I know you're not dead. You're ignoring me. Probably because you're accepting awards from every government and university on the planet. I'll settle for a text. I just want to hear you're well.  
> 

Dietrich:

>   
>  Hermann, I trust you have something to do with this outbreak of good news? I never doubted you were right. I'm proud of you, little brother.  
> 

"You really need to give me a key," Newt says when Hermann unlocks the door for him. "They actually had some decent-smelling Assam, so I grabbed a couple for you to try. That might make up for the fact all of the meat looked suspicious this morning." Hermann snorts, thanks him, and reclaims his chair.

Newt openly reads Dietrich’s message over Hermann’s shoulder. "Looks like he has your back, more than just being your doctor."

"My siblings can be quite protective of me."

Newt perches on the edge of the bed and begins munching on his dry bowl of colorful, sugary cereal. "That’s really cool. It’s good to have family and friends you can count on. Makes me wish I had a brother or sister or two."

"They are, at best, a mixed blessing I’ve found."

"C’mon, give them _some_ credit." He pulls the tablet out of Hermann’s hands and scans the notes from Karla and Bastien. "They care about you, dude. No matter how awful Lars is to you, you’re their brother. They’re proud of you. They love you."

"They, perhaps, are simply trying to avoid bringing attention and shame to the family," Hermann says cooly.

"Or, maybe, they don’t want to see your life wrecked by things your asshole parents did to you. I think they really care about you, dude. Karla’s a biologist, right? Working on phytoplankton to clear Kaiju Blue? Why hasn’t she tried to reverse engineer you instead? I’m sure Dietrich could go down in history if he wrote up your case for a medical journal, too, but he helps you hide and Bastien’s a broke law student with enough faith in you to risk his food money."

Hermann distractedly plays with a section of the orange he began peeling after Newt took his tablet, determinedly not meeting Newt’s eyes. "Hey. I’m up here," Newt needles, staring until Hermann makes eye contact. "You need to trust somebody, Hermann. You can trust them. You can trust me, too. I mean, I may not be the most organized or the neatest guy around, but I care. When it comes to you … I’ll do almost anything. For god’s sake, you have me pretending to be a medical doctor totally against what better judgement I have."

"I’m grateful for your help, Newton." He raises an eyebrow as Newt starts tapping at the tablet screen. "What are you doing?"

"Putting in an order for cases of medical tape and gauze before they shut down my company card. We’re going to need it to keep your wing stable while it heals." He grins a mischievous grin. "You want me to misappropriate funds for anything else while I’m logged in?" Hermann gives a long-suffering sigh and turns back to his toast and orange.

Breakfast finished, Newt asks, "You want to work in the lab today? Then let me wrap your other wing. _No ladders_. No walking without your cane. At least one foot on the floor at all times."

"I’m not made of glass, Newton," Hermann grouses as they walk to the door.

"Doctor’s orders, Hermann. You put me in charge of your treatment, so this is all your fault," Newt declares.

Hermann looks beseechingly at the ceiling. "Gods. I’ve created a monster," he mumbles.

As evening rolls in, Newt strips off his gloves and approaches Hermann. "Hong Kong University invited me to give a talk tonight, remember? I'd, uh, like it if you joined me," he says. "C'mon. We'll be a hit."

"Thank you for the invitation, but I must pass," Hermann says without turning from his work. He adds quietly, "I'm not comfortable with public appearances."

"It's a lecture, not a talk show. You used to give them for a living," Newt responds in his most reasonable voice.

"That was a long time ago. I am even less interested than usual given my current inability to dress myself properly."

"You'll be fine. They'll all be staring at me anyway. I'm the cute one." Hermann snorts. "It won't be as much fun without you." Newt’s voice hovers one step away from whining.

"Newton, I'm confident you'll muddle through somehow." Hermann finally turns to address Newt face-to-face.

"Sure you won't join me?" Now Newt is definitely whining.

"Yes, I am," Hermann says firmly. "You should leave soon so you arrive on time."

"Yeah, I shouldn't keep my fans waiting." Newt sounds almost disappointed. "Promise me you’ll be careful while I’m gone."

Hermann remains in the lab after Newt leaves, but he struggles to focus on tying up the loose ends of his model of Breach structure using the final sensor data relayed by _Striker Eureka_ and _Gipsy Danger_. After the fourth time he catches himself staring blankly at the board, he climbs down his ladder and drops himself into his desk chair. 

"Hopeless," he murmurs as he squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. He drums his fingers against the desktop, then grabs his cane and makes his way slowly back to his quarters. 

He changes for the evening, unwraps his uninjured wing, and sits as he normally does, slouched over the back of the chair to gives his wings (or, today, wing) as much space and freedom of motion as he can. Eyes closed, he slowly beats his free wing, a semi-conscious action he always finds comforting. He loses himself in a meditative trance, thinking of nothing but his own breathing and the movement of air through his feathers. 

Hermann startles back to the world when Newt knocks. He reaches for his cane, reconsiders, and walks to the door without it. 

"Given any thought to making me a key?" Newt asks with a grin before he notices Hermann’s empty hands. "Hey!" he yelps. "I said no walking without your cane, Hermann. If you want me to keep playing doctor you need to listen to me." 

"I am perfectly able to cross this small distance with no problem," Hermann huffs. 

"Whatever, Hermann. If you break anything else or reinjure that wing, I’m sedating you and we’re going to the base doctor, understand?" 

"You wouldn’t dare." He sounds scandalized. "There’s not much I won’t dare when something important’s at stake," Newt says while he glares at Hermann. "Let me get a look at your wing." He steps behind Hermann to get a better view of the injured limb. "Maybe I should get my M.D. I think I’m doing pretty well here. If I can handle _you_ , I should be able to deal with anyone." 

"Perhaps veterinary medicine would be more appropriate given your patient," Hermann mumbles. 

"What did you say?" 

Hermann raises his voice a little and snarls, "I said, perhaps you should study to become a veterinarian instead." 

"Maybe I could do both. I like having an even number of doctorates," Newt says with a nervous little laugh. He pauses in the middle of applying new tape to the splint. "Hold on. Did you seriously just call yourself an animal? And not in the ‘all humans are primates’ sense?" 

"I’m _not_ a human being, Newton. I’m a monster, a creation, as much as any kaiju." He good wing trembles as he wraps it around his side. "I belong in a zoo or a lab now that my work is done." 

" _Shut up! Just shut up!_ " Newt screams loudly enough to be heard in LOCCENT while pulling at his hair. Hermann nearly flinches himself off his chair. Newt dives through the space between them and grabs Hermann’s shoulders, one under each hand, to hold him in place. Their foreheads smack together and Newt’s glasses are pushed askew as he crouches in front of Hermann. "Oh my god, I don’t care what your parents called you! How they treated you! You’re a fucking human being! A great one! One of the best I’ve met! I’ve only been listening to you say shit like this for four days and I’m sick of it already. So stop it. Seriously. You hear me? Doctor’s orders." 

Hermann blinks at him then lowers his head to rest on Newt’s shoulder, knocking the man’s glasses the rest of the way off. Newt moves his hands to hug Hermann, taking care not to trap his wings. They rest like that for a minute or five with Hermann’s wing fluttering nervously. 

"Breathe, Hermann. You’re going to pass out any second," Newt chides gently. Hermann takes a great, shaky breath without lifting his head. "Alright, big guy. Let’s go to bed before my legs give out. I’ll grab your meds." Hermann straightens and nods, giving Newt a look at his puffy, reddened eyes. He swallows the pills Newt brings him and doesn’t resist when Newt takes his elbow and leads him to bed. 

They fall asleep with Newt’s arm around Hermann’s waist and Hermann’s wing stretched over Newt.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s an A/V aid to help you visualize the part where Newt yells at Hermann. Picture [this](http://youtu.be/ZohRWwuL66U), only a little more restrained.
> 
> My partner pointed out something interesting when she read through the first five chapters this afternoon. Follow this: Hermann’s wings are those of a Little Owl, Latin name _Athene noctua_. The genus name comes from the goddess Athene and this species of owl is used as the model for the bird that often accompanies her. Athene’s temple in Athens (a city dedicated to and named after her) is the Parthenon, which takes its name from one of her nicknames: the virgin or maiden goddess, which is _parthenos_ in Greek. _Parthenos_ is also the root of the word ‘parthenogenesis’ which is the birth of an offspring without genetic input from a male. In other words, exactly how this version of Hermann came to be. Weird how that sort of circled around. And all because I thought the owl in question was pretty.


	7. Movie scripts, politics, playmates, sunshine, and tropical island getaways

Newt wakes first with a stiff shoulder from holding Hermann all night. He moves his arm only to have Hermann blink into consciousness a moment later. "Sorry," Newt whispers. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"It’s nothing," Hermann replies. Newt waits for a snarky comment that never arrives. Instead the two men stare at each other for an uncomfortable interval. Newt, predictably, breaks the silence.  


"You know, I was thinking … ."  


"Shall I alert the media to this rare occurrence? Or would Medical be the wiser choice?"  


"Shut up, Hermann," Newt sighs. "I’ve been thinking your life reads like a science fiction movie. Seriously. Clones, genetic engineering, mad scientists, giant alien monsters, enormous robots. All you need now is to get the girl and we’ll have a script!" Newt smiles and laughs at his joke. Hermann’s lips thin.  


"Get out of my way, Newton," he snarls and shoves lightly at him. "I have work to do." Newt scrambles off the bed and watches with a little confusion as Hermann locks himself in the bathroom.   


While he listens to the shower run, Newt starts to check his email and freezes. _The girl_. _There’s never been a girl for him_. _Or a boy_. _Or anyone_. _He doesn’t think there_ could _be anyone_. _Well_ , _he does have me now_. _That must count for something_. _Maybe_. _Sort of_. _Whatever_. He runs his fingers through his hair. _I should probably be extra nice to him this morning_ , he thinks.

"I made you a pot of tea and loaded _The Standard_  for you," he says when Hermann reappears. "I’ll wrap you up when I’m done with my shower."

Hermann studies him suspiciously for a moment, then nods and sits to skim the headlines, sipping his tea. The UN has called for hearings on the end of the kaiju war. Pointless. He would be invited and have to sit there, polite and obedient, a good little soldier, and listen to the idiocy. As Marshal Hansen says, they are nothing but suits and ties and flashy smiles. Of course, his father would also attend and (if there is any justice in the world) face a grilling for the Wall’s failure at Sydney. Mood lowered further, he gives up on the news and switches to his email.

The first message comes from Marshal Hansen. He reads it three times before he feels certain he understands it. Hermann rests his forehead on his crossed arms on the desktop as he waits for Newt to return and bind his wings, meditatively flexing the uninjured one. _I didn’t think it would be so soon_. _Why can’t I have a little more time_?

"Newton," he asks, trying to keep his voice level as he watches the man search the fridge and cupboard for food. "Did you see the memo informing us the Shatterdome will be returned to the city at the end of February?"

"Yeah. Guess we need to start packing."  


"We need to start searching for alternate employment."  


"Shouldn’t be much of a problem, right? Every university and lab on the planet wants a piece of us."  


"I suppose that’s true," Hermann admits grudgingly.  


"I’ve already started a list of benefits I want written into my contract."   


Hermann remains silent while Newt finishes the bindings and babbles on about nothing in particular, a stream of words that continues all the way to the lab and throughout the workday.

"I can’t believe I let you convince me to go to the mess," Hermann grouses as they return to what Newt has started calling (at least in his own mind) their room.  


"I’m sick of playing delivery boy. It wasn’t so bad, was it?" Newt wheedles.  


"I felt naked," Hermann murmurs.  


Newt laughs loudly. "You’re wearing more layers than an onion, about as far from ‘naked’ as a human being can get!"  


Hermann makes a derisive sound as he strips down to his wrappings. "It probably feels as alien for me to go without it as it would for you to suddenly find yourself covered in nothing more than freckles." Newt hesitates and blinks. "It’s hardly surprising. I’ve worn a binder regularly for thirty years, much longer than you’ve been inked."  


"Thirty years."  


"My disfigurement had to be hidden from my tutors."  


"You’re _not_  disfigured. I _told_  you to stop saying that."  


Hermann rolls his eyes. "Very well. _My wings_  had to be hidden from my tutors and from anyone outside my family." He pauses to look at Newt. "Happy now?"   


"I’ll take what I can get," he answers with a shrug. "Homeschooled, huh?" Newt prompts as he re-secures Hermann’s splint and unwinds the gauze from Hermann’s other wing.  


Hermann flexes his released wing and sighs. "Yes, I was, until I entered university."  


"That’s why you’re alone in all those childhood memories I saw. No classmates, no neighborhood kids." Newt pauses in thought, replaying shared memories, as Hermann nods. "If no one could see your wings, dude, when was the last time you were outside with your shirt off?"  


"It was before we moved to the city. I was seven." With that, Hermann steps into the bathroom and closes the door.  


"When we get our bonuses for saving the world," Newt declares as Hermann returns to the living area and climbs into bed, "we’re renting a tropical island and running around topless for at least a month."  


"I doubt our severance pay will cover anything quite so extravagant, Newton."

"I’m not so sure. The value of oceanfront property will probably take a while to rebound. Besides, I can always write it into my contract for my new job. ‘Doctor Newton Geiszler will not begin work at our establishment until he has finished a month-long tropical island getaway with Doctor Hermann Gottlieb on our dime.’" He stops to savor his own words as he curls up beside Hermann. "I think it’ll work."

"I don’t know whether I should wish for your success or failure at those negotiations."  


"One of these days, dude, you’re going to stop doubting me."  


Hermann snorts and offers his wing. Newt hums his thanks and drifts off thinking about how Hermann hadn’t said ‘no’.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Standard_ is Hong Kong’s main English-language newspaper.


	8. Flailing, a chat, a couple of realizations, and job offers

"Newton. _Newton_. Wake up." Hermann nudges Newt’s leg with his foot, but allows the other man the courtesy of staying warm under his wing.

Newt makes a sleepy noise and kicks ineffectually at his bedmate. 

Hermann withdraws his wing and stares balefully at the back of the other man’s head. "Newton. We’ll be late for the senior staff meeting if you don’t get moving."  


"Aren’t you supposed to be nocturnal? Stop being a morning person, jeez," Newt fusses as he huddles closer to Hermann in search of warmth.  


"I have no trouble being a creature of the morning. Little Owls are diurnal. Now get up," Hermann insists, prodding Newt again.  


"Knock it off with the ‘creature’ crap, Hermann. I mean it," Newt says and strikes out at Hermann with one of his feet. He feels it connect. Hermann inhales sharply and goes completely still.  


Newt jerks fully awake so suddenly he tumbles off the bed. He pops back up instantly, wide-eyed and apologetic. "Oh, shit! Your knee! I’m _so_  sorry, dude! Is there anything I can do?" Newt fumbles his glasses on and sees Hermann with his eyes screwed shut and both hands gripping his right knee.  


"Not unless you feel like doing more harm," Hermann grinds out. "Give me a moment and it will pass." After a few seconds of carefully controlled breathing, Hermann cracks open an eye. "Of course, if you can pick yourself up and retrieve my medications, it would go a small distance toward making up for your clumsiness," he says. Newt scuttles to the bathroom.  


"Hermann, I’m so sorry," he says as he hands over the pills and a glass of water as Hermann sits up. "I wasn’t awake enough to think straight."  


"You never think," Hermann snarls, gingerly pulling himself to the edge of the bed. "That’s your problem." _That’s why you nearly killed yourself_. _That’s why_ … this _will never work_. Hermann grabs his cane and hauls himself to his feet. "While I shower and try to work out the soreness, would you kindly collect some food for us from the mess hall?"  


"Of-of course," Newt stammers and flails into the clothes Hermann had folded for him the night before. "On it!" he shouts as he darts out the door. Hermann sighs as the door slams behind Newt.  


While Newt makes his foray, Hermann picks up his tablet and begins his usual morning review of the news and his email. First, however, he decides to re-read an article he’d skimmed a few days previous. He opens the browser history to look for it. A number of unfamiliar pages greet him.  


 _Athene noctua_. Avian bone structure. Comfortable binding garments. Repairing wing fractures. Stabilizing injured wings. Wildlife rehabilitation. _Squid Girl_. Cross-species gene transfer in vertebrates. Order fabric online. Surgical repair of improperly healed bones. Accelerated M.D. programs.   


Newton’s history. _Newton’s read nearly nothing unrelated to me since that first day_. _At least I interest him as a research topic_. _Perhaps he actually does care for_ … _but that’s a ridiculous notion_. _He said it himself_. _I’m only a biological marvel he wants to investigate_. Hermann exchanges his reflective expression for a scowl as Newt unlocks the door and lets himself in.  


" _Newton_!" Hermann squawks. "I asked you to clear your browsing history from my tablet. I do not care  _what_  you read, but I would rather know nothing about it."  


"Oh come _on_! A little anime never hurt anyone!"  


"Tell that to those poor traumatized cephalopods," Hermann says with a half-smile.  


After the meeting, Tendo grabs Newt by the arm as the biologist tries to leave. "I’ll give him back to you in a minute, Doctor Gottlieb," he calls. Hermann nods and sets off in the direction of the lab. The J-Tech chief scans the room to make sure he and Newt are alone. The delay makes Newt fidget nervously, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh.   


"Listen, Newt, I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with Hermann lately. A _lot_  of time." Tendo drops a hand on Newt’s shoulder, squeezes, and shakes the biologist a little. "You need to be careful with him. He’s fragile."  


"Tendo, you have no idea," Newt says.  


"Well, if you want to keep spending time with him or even more time you’d better be real about what’s going on. Are you serious about this? ‘Bout him?"  


"Well … ," Newt sputters. "I don’t know. Yet. I mean, I like him and he’s awesome and really cool, in his own way. I like hanging out with him, talking, and, yeah, arguing, and sleeping to … sharing a room has been great, but-but I … don’t know … ."  


"You’d better make up your mind soon," Tendo says with a hint of menace in his level gaze. "He’s special. He’s my friend and I don’t want him hurt again. I’ve got my eyes on you, brother, and my eyes are everywhere on this base." Tendo pats Newt on the shoulder and strolls out. Newt gapes at his retreating back.  


"That … that was a shovel talk. From Tendo. About Hermann," Newt whispers to himself as he leans against the wall of the conference room. "When did my life get this weird? As if giant alien sea monsters weren’t weird enough." He scrubs at his face. _I think I’m falling for my lab partner_ , _who has_ wings, _and it’s so obvious that a guy I haven’t seen in a week is giving me a shovel talk_. Newt launches himself himself from the wall and aims for his quarters. He needs to think. Alone.  


Newt returns to their—Hermann’s—quarters that evening with his own tablet giving the special knock they’d agreed on so Hermann didn’t panic when he opened the door. "What’re you doing? Looking at job offers? Anything good?"  


"Oxford offers the Wykeham chair in physics," Hermann says quietly from his resting position in front of his desk. _Hey_! _He’s undone the binding from his hurt wing_! Newt’s mind supplies before he is distracted by, of all things, Hermann. Newt watches the man’s wings move slowly back and forth, his unique muscles rippling under his skin. It’s exquisite … .  


He yanks himself back to reality, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "That’s … that’s your dream job, isn’t it? Ever since grad school. Well, that or having total control of Jodrell Bank. The best I have is MIT and Chicago arguing over who can build me the better lab. Oh yeah, and this company out of New York wants to pay me something with a ridiculous number of zeros involved." Newt considers for a moment. "Do we have any in common? I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show yours." Hermann pulls up a file and hands over the tablet and Newt flops onto the bed.  


"You made a spreadsheet? You are such a dork. I can’t believe I hang out with a total nerd," Newt says affectionately. "Let’s see what we have here. Stanford. MIT. Cambridge. Imperial College. ETH Zurich. Carnegie Mellon. Tokyo. Hong Kong. The other one in Hong Kong. Peking. And you’ve got Columbia and I have that company. Huh. That’s not as much overlap as I was expecting." He passes the tablet back. "Still, if we want to stay together, there’s plenty of choices."  


Hermann jumps slightly in surprise and locks eyes with Newt. "Why do you think we’d accept employment at the same location?" he asks.  


"Ummm … ," Newt stalls for time, doing that thing he does with his lips when he’s nervous or unsure of how to react. "Well, we’ve worked together a long time and we work well together and … ummm … we’ve been … getting along so … well lately, I thought, maybe … ."  


"I hardly think how we’ve spent the last few days is a sound basis for a decision like this," Hermann says sensibly. "We should each accept the best offers for us, regardless of location."  


" _What_? And break up the band?" Newt yelps. _This is not going well_ , he thinks before saying "Tell you what. We should sleep on it. Let’s get your bad wing taped up and turn in for the night."  


"That seems a wise course," Hermann agrees and yawns.  


Hermann’s wing secured, they arrange themselves in bed and huddle together under the gentle brush of Hermann’s feathers.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [artificiallifecreator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallifecreator/pseuds/artificiallifecreator) for the inspiration behind the browser history incident.
> 
> [ _Squid Girl_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squid_girl) is an absolutely harmless comedy anime.
> 
> Endowed, named professorships are the Holy Grails of academia. At the big, old British colleges and universities the [Wykeham professor of physics](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wykeham_Professor#Physics) provides the best fit for Hermann I could find.
> 
> Ah, the [Jodrell Bank Observatory](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jodrell_Bank_Observatory), one of the heavy lifters of modern cosmology and astrophysics. It’s my headcanon that Hermann, space groupie that he is, would love to get his hands on this thing. I don’t think he’d want to be the manager, but the principal investigator for _all the things_. You’ll see it name-dropped in a bunch of my fics, which all seem to be WIPs yet.
> 
> If you have any questions you’d like to see answered, have something you want clarified, or are simply wondering anything about this Hermann and his life, please drop a comment or let me know at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com). I respond to all comments and will try to work answers to as many appropriate inquiries into future chapters as possible. A couple of earlier requests get their answers here.


	9. Secret Skypes, yellow mugs, a gossip queen, Zen monks, and spoons

Hermann hears the snorty breath Newt always takes as he wakes up as soon as he is conscious. _Why do I know this about him_? Hermann asks himself. _I’ve probably noted it so I can avoid upsetting his sleep_. His thoughts run in circles for several more seconds before Newt’s voice intrudes.

"You awake, sleeping beauty?" he asks. When Hermann doesn’t answer, he continues. "It’s no use, dude, I can tell by your breathing you’re up." Hermann offers his best long-suffering sigh and Newt accepts it as a positive response. "Great," he says cheerily. "So, can you, like, let go of me?"  


"Oh. Right. Of course," Hermann stammers. He quickly pulls back the arm with which he had snugly encircled Newt’s waist. As Newt separates himself, slipping out from underneath his wing, Hermann buries his face in the pillow.  


"Sorry, Hermann. I’d love to stay and cuddle, but it’s really important I Skype this guy in a couple of minutes. From, uh, my room. So, I-I’ll see you later. Bye!" Newt delivers the entire monologue in a single breath as he stuffs himself into the previous day’s clothes. He slips out the door and locks it after himself.  


Hermann remains face down and unmoving for a few minutes, before pushing himself up and shuffling about his morning routine. As he prepares for the day, he resigns himself to the conviction the first morning he and Newt woke up simultaneously is likely one of the last they will wake up together.  


After a lonely mess hall breakfast, Hermann pushes himself down the halls to Tendo Choi's office. As always, the space smells of coffee with a faint undertone of pomade. Hermann knocks politely on the open door with the handle of his cane. "May I bother you for a moment, Mister Choi?"  


"It's only 'Mister' when the little people are around; You know that," Tendo says through a friendly smile. "Grab a coffee, Hermann. The yellow mug’s cleanest. I've missed chatting with you the last week or so."  


Hermann pauses in front of the neat row of mugs next to Tendo's personal coffee maker. "Tendo, I am unable to tell items apart by color. Everything is a shade of gray to me," he says apologetically.  


"Crap. Sorry, man. I forgot. It’s second from the left." He props his feet on his desk, carefully avoiding the framed picture of his wife and son, as Hermann lowers himself into a seat. "So, what’s going on between you and our dear Doctor Geiszler, brother?" Tendo waggles his eyebrows.  


Hermann looks genuinely confused. "I’m not sure what you’re talking about."  


"Scuttlebutt is you two have set up housekeeping together," Tendo prompts.  


Hermann stares open-mouthed in surprise before recovering with a small smile. "Ah. Tendo Choi, gossip queen of the PPDC."  


"I see and hear all that goes on in this ‘Dome. Spill."  


"Oh. Well, yes, we've been sharing my quarters recently." Hermann swirls his coffee and studies the wave patterns that form on the surface. "I'm told a desire for closeness is a normal, temporary phenomenon between Drift partners, especially after traumatic experiences."  


Tendo drops his feet back to the floor and leans across the desk to peer more closely at Hermann. " _That's_ what you're telling yourself is going on? If that's all you think it is, you're missing something."  


"Kindly save me from my ignorance, Mister Choi," Hermann replies as he bristles defensively.  


"Newt is way into you," Tendo says. He adds earnestly, "Romantically."  


"You jest." Hermann sounds simultaneously shocked and offended.  


"J-Tech’s honor," Tendo says as he makes the ‘live long and prosper’ gesture. "The two most oblivious guys in LOCCENT have noticed. It’s that obvious."  


"I don’t believe you."  


"Of _course_  you don’t." Tendo rolls his eyes. "You’re still convinced I hate you."  


Hermann drops his eyes to his mug again and blushes a little. "I don’t think you hate me, Tendo. I am … unsure of your motives in talking to me."  


"You keep thinking that no matter how many times I tell you I actually _like_  talking to you. It’s been eight years, man! You’re a lot cooler than you give yourself credit for. Anyone that can jam on _Doctor Who_  like you can is clearly good friend material," he says. He pauses a moment. "Nice try distracting me, by the way. We’re talking about you and Newt, here. I think the little guy finally realizes how much you mean to him. Took him long enough," Tendo chuckles. "Seriously, Hermann. I think he’ll follow you wherever you want to go. He’s in deep."  


"At least until something better comes along," Hermann mumbles while he plays with the cuffs of his blazer, tugging them farther down over his wrists.  


"Hey. Hermann. Newt’s not Darja, okay?" Tendo grabs Hermann’s forearm and shakes it a little. "The two of you have been joined at the hip for five years."

"As colleagues!"

Tendo holds up a hand for quiet. "You’ve been inseparable for five years and friends, more or less, for the entire war. He’s been in your head, man. If he’s getting serious now, he knows exactly what he’s getting. He’ll be patient with you."  


"That man doesn’t know the definition of ‘patience’ or ‘delayed gratification’," Hermann grumbles.  


"Maybe not in general, but you’re a special case for him," Tendo offers. "He’ll wait."  


Hermann’s voice and expression are skeptical. "What makes you so sure of that?" he asks.  


"Woman’s intuition," Tendo says and winks, causing Hermann to raise an eyebrow. "Seriously, man. I talked to him a few days ago and I’ve been watching him. All the signs are there."  


"You talked to him? About me?"  


Tendo raises his hands in mollification. "We talked about him and what he was thinking. Since he’s still attached to you like a fuzzy, nearsighted limpet," Hermann snorts a laugh at the image and Tendo grins back at him, "his seriousness passes the Tendo Choi test. If you’re at all interested you should let him know."  


"Tendo, what do you think of Newton, honestly?" Hermann asks softly, studying his nearly empty coffee.  


Tendo leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head in a relaxed, thoughtful pose. "He's brilliant and good looking—if you like 'em small and cute. He's also mostly an asshole with his foot perpetually in his mouth, a habit of acting without thinking first, and is undermedicated for bipolar disorder. But, aside from you and Stacker Pentecost, I've never seen a guy fight longer and harder for what he believes in. If you can stand him, he's a guy you want at your side."  


"Thank you. I'll think over what you've said. Thank you for the coffee as well." Hermann stands and turns to leave.  


"Hermann, remember; He's not her," Tendo says quietly. "You need to cut yourself a break. Other people don't think the same nasty things about you you think about yourself. You don't have some deep dark secret. You're another guy who survived a messed-up childhood with a few issues, just like a lot of us."  


Hermann nods and limps out, headed for the lab.  


He retires early, his broken wing aching, likely because he refused to take an extra dose of painkillers that afternoon. He changes into his pajamas and unwraps his wings. With a sigh, he stretches both to their full reach, the tips of his primaries touching the walls on either side. The right twitches slightly as he holds it open after having restrained it for so long.   


Hermann assumes his usual position at his desk, picks up his tablet to read the manuscript he’d been asked to peer review, and slips on his glasses, as he always does when reading or doing close work. He settles into a rhythm of reading and gently moving his wings, the twinge in the injured one slowly easing out with continued use.  


Several hours pass before Newt signals his return with a knock at the door. Hermann doesn’t bother to fold his wings or turn around. "I suppose this qualifies as seeing me ‘later’," Hermann snarks.  


"Sorry, dude, the negotiations took a bit longer than either of us thought," he says with a shrug. Hermann grunts and continues working. Newt perches on the foot of the bed and Hermann can feel the pressure of Newt’s stare on his back.   


"Newton, I know it is a professional habit for you to examine other lifeforms, but I am not one of your specimens and I resent being mentally dissected like one," he growls.  


Newt opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before speaking. "It’s only about twenty percent professional curiosity and the rest is personal interest," he says. He hesitates, then continues. "You know, you’re a different person in here than you are outside."  


"Oh?" Hermann finally turns and looks over his glasses at the other man.  


"You’re all twitchy out there. Hands, feet, eyebrows, mouth, <em>something</em> always has to be moving. You’re almost as bad about it as me." Hermann scoffs. "I’m serious, dude. I’ll record you someday so you can see."  


"Over my dead body, Newton."  


"Yeah, yeah. We both know that’s an empty threat. It’s like you take off your shirts and you’re suddenly a Zen monk. Serene. Look at your hands now."  


Hermann sets down the tablet, removes his glasses, and holds one hand out in front of himself, palm facing the floor. "It’s not shaking," he says with a note of wonder in his voice. He shifts his gaze to Newt. "I thought the tremor was permanent."  


"Nope! You relax and it goes away." Newt pauses and cocks his head. "You can probably actually relax now because someone knows you and you’re still okay." He grins.  


"So this is all. Your. Fault," Hermann says, enunciating each word carefully and looking at his steady hand. Newt’s protest cuts off with a squeak as Hermann suddenly stands up and hugs him tightly.  


"Thank you, Newt," he whispers.  


Newt eases his arms under Hermann’s wings and returns the embrace. "You’re very welcome, Hermann."  


Hermann breaks away first, stepping back and retaking his place in the chair. Newt watches him, catches himself gazing a little too intently, and begins clumsily unbuttoning his shirt. "You ready to call it a night?" he finally asks.  


"I need to finish reviewing two more pages," Hermann answers.  


"Cool. Let me give you your evening check up while you do that, then we can turn in. I’m beat." Hermann sniffs and continues working while Newt runs his hand along the leading edge of Hermann’s right wing, feeling for sore spots and checking the edges of the fracture are still healing properly. As Newt repeats the motion more gently, Hermann shivers and his wing flutters delicately. Newt slides his fingers through the column of down along Hermann's spine.   


Hermann shudders. "Please don't do that, Newton. I find the sensation unpleasant."

"Oh. Sorry, dude," Newt apologies.

Wing resecured and work finished for the night, they climb into bed. Without thinking, Hermann covers Newt with his wing. He feels the last of the day’s tension drain away as a tattooed arm drapes itself over his back.  


"My turn to be the big spoon," Newt mumbles sleepily and it takes every bit of restraint Hermann has not to laugh out loud.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Hermann’s eyesight in this part. I haven’t changed much from the film. In the movie, Hermann only puts his glasses on when he has to look at a screen. He can’t see well close up. He’s farsighted. Newt only takes his glasses off twice. When he loses them in the refuge, he can’t see far enough in front of himself to find them and has to feel around. He’s nearsighted. Another way these two are opposite. Together, maybe they have 20/20 vision. Actually, since together they ‘see’ the answer to closing the Breach, maybe this is another layer duality built into the movie. Even if it’s accidental, it’s great.
> 
> All I did this time around was strip his color vision. Owls have trouble with color because their eyes are dominated by the color-free, night vision-enhancing receptor cells. That said, we’ll talk a little more about his vision later.
> 
> Fun fact: When this story first expanded past the initial installment, the ‘thank you’ exchange near end of this chapter was the close of the tale. Now it’s only an incident in the middle. 
> 
> I’ve already scrapped the ending I wrote next. Which means, as of right now, there’s no end in sight for this fic. Rejoice or be afraid!
> 
> Remember, I’m always open to questions about this Hermann and his world, so if you have one, please drop a comment or let me know at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com). Some more of those submitted questions have been worked into this part.
> 
> ETA (2-2-14): To address potential confusion and nervousness over the identity of the person Tendo compares to Newt while talking to Hermann, I gave her a name. Originally, Tendo said ‘her’ twice.


	10. Forever, colorful memories, aging, and last words

When Newt blinks to consciousness the next morning, it crosses his mind that he could stay like this forever. In fact, he actually, kinda, maybe _does_  want to stay warm under Hermann’s wing forever. He doesn’t mean that metaphorically. He’s perfectly capable of rocking the world without backup. Literally under the guy’s wing, though, feels, well, more like home than he’s felt in for-freaking-ever. 

He mentally doubles his resolve to make sure he and Hermann find new jobs together. It needs to be something completely awesome or the stuffy bastard will wind up in boring old Oxford, where nothing’s changed in forever.   


 _I wonder how long forever will be with Hermann_ , he asks himself. _Hermann_ , _who doesn’t have purely human genes_. _Or a purely human shape_. _What if he’s got an owl’s lifespan_? _That’s nuts, though_. _He’d already be long gone if that was the case_. _Maybe I can run a test against his DNA for some sort of longevity markers_.  


Newt takes a deep breath and feels Hermann’s short hair tickle his nose. The man snuffles sleepily against his chest and his wing shifts, feathers making a sound like a whisper.  


 _Yeah_ , _forever would be kinda nice_.  


He lets Hermann sleep while he runs over the next phase of Operation Keep-Hermann-and-Newt-Together in his mind. The planning process skids to a stop as Hermann’s wings and arms start to twitch and he emits a tiny, terrified noise Newt has never heard from him before.  


"Hermann. Hey. You’re having a nightmare, buddy. C’mon, open your eyes."  


Hermann’s eyelids flutter open and his eyes go wide as he focuses as best he can on the kaiju tattooed across Newt’s chest. He jerks away from Newt violently, throwing himself against the wall. His head smacks the concrete and his broken wing winds up pinned between his back and the wall. Newt grabs his pillow and clutches it to his chest, covering his ink.  


Hermann blinks again and rubs the back of his head. "Oh. It’s only you," he says with relief. Newt lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  


"Is that good? It’s probably good you’re not having nightmares about me. That would really put a crimp in my current happy lifestyle. So would you having a head injury that could kill you. Let me get a look at it." Newt checks that Hermann’s pupils are even before sinking his fingers in Hermann’s hair, then his feathers, feeling for fractures or sore spots. Finding none, he says, "It doesn’t look like you hurt your wing and your head seems okay, so it’s probably safe to let you out of bed."  


"Thank you for your permission, Doctor," Hermann responds sarcastically.  


"Anytime, Patient," Newt says brightly. More seriously, he asks "You wanna tell me what you were nightmaring about?"  


Hermann rubs his eyes with one hand. "They—some military organization—were creating an army of winged soldiers. Each was a clone of me. Each took a sample from me to create. They were slowly pulling me apart." Hermann shivers and wraps both his arms and his one free wing around himself. "The clones were built in the manner the kaiju were created."  


"Jesus. It’s two nightmares for the price of one."  


"Yes. Quite." Hermann shivers again. "This is also the first time I’ve dreamt in color. It was disconcerting." Newt bites his tongue and decides against informing Hermann that he’s absently tracing the outline of Yamarashi on his forearm with a fingertip. It tickles.  


"Why’s that weird? I’ve heard of plenty of people who usually but not always dream in black and white," he says with rising curiosity. "Wait a minute. Your memories were all grayscale, too."  


"I suffer achromatopsia. Before Drifting, I’d never seen anything other than black, white, or gray. I’ve only experienced colors through your memories and those of the Kaiju."  


"I’ve known you forever and I had no idea about this." Newt pauses, gathering his courage. "Speaking of forever, Hermann, I’ve been thinking … ."  


"This best not involve a plan which could kill you." Hermann actually crosses his arms as he glowers.  


"Well, not directly at least. It’s about you." Hermann stiffens, defenses rising, so Newt quickly forges ahead. "Will your, uh, _unique_  genetics affect your lifespan? I mean, I looked it up and Little Owls only live three years. I know you’re still young, even if you don’t act it, but are you going to, like, start aging rapidly at some point? Or drop dead at forty?"  


"I have no idea," Hermann says as he fiddles with the hem of the pillowcase, wing shifting nervously. "So far, I’ve aged as a normal person would, but I have no idea how matters will progress. If my mother knew, the information is gone with her research notes. I only know what Dieterich has managed to document and infer. There’s no precedent. None of my mother’s other attempts at this genetic manipulation lived more than a few hours."  


" _She tried more than once_?" Newt squeaks.  


Hermann snorts. "Of course. You, of all people, should know cloning is not an exact science," he scoffs. "I don’t know how many ‘siblings’ I had, only that several were born from surrogates." He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. "My father was fond of reminding my mother of their deaths when they fought."  


Newt lets his jaw drop. "That’s plain <em> _evil_ </em>. Jesus christ, they’re <em> _both_ </em> awful, but <em> _that_ </em> is the <em> _lowest_ </em> thing I’ve ever heard," Newt says incredulously.  


"It was, however, very effective at ensuring he got his way." He pauses to let a bitter smile creep across his features." The only thing that man enjoys more than being right is having things his way."  


"Yeah, I’d kind of noticed that. What a dick. You’re better off without having to deal with him," Newt says with conviction. "How ‘bout we get this day going?" They both head for the bathroom which leads to a gentle scuffle over who gets to brush his teeth first.  


After binding and breakfast, they proceed to the lab for a day’s work. Ignoring Newt’s glares, Hermann climbs his ladder and continues his work on the final Breach model. Newt glances at his remaining specimens but, for the first time since the kaiju arrived, they fail to hold any interest for him.  


 _The only thing really interesting right now_ , Newt thinks as he risks a look across the lab, _is Hermann_. _I guess I could do research on his family and play it off like I’m looking at something kaiju-related as long as he doesn’t sneak up behind me_. _I don’t need him thinking I’m some sort of creepy stalker_.  


Newt’s surfing soon zeroes in on Hermann’s mother.   


She was brilliant and unconventional in grad school, but no genius, and nothing he can find indicates what she was apparently capable of. There are some nice citations of her early papers, some grant funding, postdoc work with a top-notch guy, but it really looked like she would be one of those scientists in the background of a big announcement. Never a star, but definitely in the band. _Where the hell was the woman who built Hermann in this_?  


He opens another webpage and whistles. There she is, hiding in a short research update in an obscure German journal. Newt pops a hole in the paywall mumbling something about information wanting to be free and reads it carefully, occasionally consulting a German-English dictionary where his language is rusty. The paper details her method for swapping genes in and out of bird DNA. <em> _This_ </em> is her big idea. If it worked like she said it did, it was a big step toward Hermann. On paper, though, it looks unreliable compared to more traditional methods, but it might generate a stable and appropriate fusion. And there’s another clue in this article, in French now, "Limited term activation of inserted genes in embryonic development". She claimed to have turn on bird genes inside a mouse embryo. It’s a big jump from that to a human, but … maybe, she could’ve pulled it off.  


But there’s no way exactly what she describes would work. _I tried something similar as an undergrad and it didn’t hold together nearly well enough_. _She must have tweaked it_. _She tried something new and that’s what worked_. _Those notes are the ones that are gone_. Newt makes a wordless, frustrated noise.  


Those are the last two papers she published. She marries Lars Gottlieb and drops off the face of the planet. All that comes after that are co-authorships on a couple of her husband’s papers and a few pictures of her at one academic function or another, always a polite half-step behind Lars. Birth announcements for Dietrich and Karla show up in the local newspaper.  


 _Where was she working_? _Where did she get the tools_? _She couldn’t have done this in the basement_ … . _Oh god_. _Did she have help_?  


It’s a long period of nothing until Hermann’s birth announcement and then Bastien’s.  


Obituary.  


"Found dead in her home," it says. _At, what, 45_? _This looks like code for ‘suicide’_. _She killed herself_. _Her husband cut her off from her work for sure and maybe from the rest of the world and she killed herself_.  


"The only thing that man enjoys more than being right is having things his way," Hermann said.  


 _He blamed Hermann for it_ , _didn’t he_? Newt hears Lars’ voice echoing in the back of his head, a fragment from Hermann’s memories: "It’s your fault your mother’s gone. Having to care for you drove her to this."  


 _I’m going to kill him_ , Newt thinks as he grinds his teeth. _Next time I see him_ , _I swear I’m going to kill him_.  


 _You don’t say that to anyone_ , _especially not a kid_. _He was eight_!  


 _I said that to him_.  


 _Oh_. _Oh no_. _Where is it_? _What happened to the stupid recorder_? _Did he hear that_? Newt frantically ransacks his side of the lab.  


Hermann hears the sounds of destruction from Newt’s side of the lab and clacks his way toward the source of the racket. "Newton, what on earth are you doing?" he calls.  


"Oh. Uh." Newt temporarily halts, elbow deep in a box of assorted files. "Looking for my digital recorder."  


"Unless you’re even less organized that I believe you are, it is still in the top drawer of your desk," Hermann replies with more than a little exasperation. Newt rushes over and yanks open the drawer. The device sits exactly where Hermann said it would. He breathes a sigh of relief.  


"Thanks, dude."   


Hermann rolls his eyes in response. "I believe this is the first time I’ve heard you express gratitude for my cleaning up after you."   


"I take care of my own messes. You haven’t had to deal with a major spill in the lab for years," Newt pouts. "You … uh … haven’t listened to it, have you?" Newt’s voice cracks with concern.  


"No."  


"Not even after the first Drift?" he wheedles.  


"No, Newton. I had more important matters on my mind than listening to whatever you were rambling about before you nearly succeeded in killing yourself. I had it off you, put it back in your desk, and returned to work."  


"Thank god." Newt whizzes across the space and slows just in time to avoid the most ill-advised tacklehug of his life.  


"What are you doing?" Hermann demands as he half-heartedly tries to shove Newt away. Newt only tightens his grip.  


"Hugging you," he says.  


"That much is obvious."  


"Just … just deal with it, okay? It’s a hug. Hugs are good."  


"Ah, yes. I do believe it has gone on long enough, though," Hermann says nervously.  


"Oh. Okay. Yeah." Newt lets out a shaky breath and releases his hold, but lets his hand rest on Hermann’s wrist. "You feel up to a little walk and some food in the city? My treat?"  


Hermann looks at the hand on his in a way which suggests he has no idea what it is and how it came to be in that position. "There won’t be many more opportunities so I had best take advantage of this one," he finally says.  


"Excellent logic, dude. Let’s go!"  


Full of noodles from the best shop within walking distance, they change together for the evening’s relaxation. As Newt reaches for his flannel sleep pants, it dawns on him that a small collection of his clothing, all neatly folded and sorted, occupies a portion of Hermann’s closet. And his meds and toothbrush are in the bathroom. The realization gives him a warm, melty feeling just left of center in his chest.  


Maybe this is mutual, he thinks. Maybe I won’t even have to say anything. It’ll just happen.  


He lies down with his tablet for a last check of his email, but soon finds himself observing Hermann out of the corner of his eye. Newt hasn’t adjusted to this new Hermann yet. The glasses on their old maid librarian chain are pretty much the only thing reminding Newt this is the same man he’s known for over a decade. He definitely prefers this more relaxed, more … _cuddly_  version.  


 _God_ , _who would’ve thought I’d ever use the word ‘cuddly’ to describe Hermann Gottlieb_. _Maybe the world ended after all_. Newt laughs a little at his own joke.  


The giggle returns Hermann’s attention from his reading to his roommate. He glances at Newt and sighs as he puts down his tablet. Newt watches him shuffle across the room and allows himself to be gently manhandled out of Hermann’s path to the man’s side of the bed. Newt smiles and flips off the light.  


Sleep finds them easily and Newt drifts off, safe and warm under Hermann’s feathers, happy at having dodged the recorder’s bullet.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People born colorblind (like this Hermann) always dream in black and white, just as all of his memories would be grayscale. The idea that the only colors Hermann has ever seen came through his Drifting with Newt and the kaiju was too awesome to not steal from the comments.
> 
> I decided not to name Hermann’s mom. I just don’t like hanging my own names on characters that may eventually be labeled in canon. I really like changing a minimum of variables when I write.
> 
> For the record, I’m working with these ages for the Gottlieb kids (mom’s age when they were born): Dieterich, 42 (30); Karla, 40 (32); Hermann, 35 (37); Bastien, 29 (41)
> 
> I’m always up for answering questions about this Hermann and his world (or any of my writing), so if you have one, comment or message me at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com). At least five questions I’ve been asked find (at least partial) answers in this chapter.


	11. Jellybeans, history, consent issues, boxes, and lots of arguing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you readers and commenters for making this the 25th most-commented-upon _Pacific Rim_ fic on AO3! As a reward, I commissioned the lovely [iraya](http://iraya.tumblr.com/) to create some [beautiful art for y’all to enjoy](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com/post/75374789015/check-out-this-gorgeous-art-iraya-made-for-me). It’s also a teaser for a scene coming up later.

Hermann wakes long before Newt and finds himself sighing contentedly at the sight of the other man lying beside him. The reaction surprises him. _When did this happen_? he wonders. _When did I start enjoying his company_? Hermann watches his friend sleep for a while, but soon must fight the desire to follow the outline of the kaiju wings across his shoulders. He wonders if touching the inked surface will help him recall its colors. In the end, he gives himself a gentle shake and settles for basking in Newt’s warmth. 

He is watching when Newt rolls over and faces him. Newt snorts and smacks his lips sleepily, wading through the last waves of a dream. "Pleasant dream?" Hermann asks quietly. 

"A great one," he sighs as he struggles to keep his eyes open. I had a house and a kid and a … partner and it was always sunny and, god, it was just the warmest feeling ever. Like being in love with everybody. You know that feeling? You ever been in love, Hermann?" Newt asks dreamily. 

"What does it matter to you?" Hermann snaps as he sits up. 

The sharp response clears the last sleep from Newt’s mind and voice. "I’m … trying to get to know you better, sheesh. We’ve been friends since nearly the beginning of time and I don’t know much about you at all. Like the colorblindness thing yesterday. I had no idea." 

"I, however, am familiar with entirely too much of your history and thought processes." Hermann continues in an exasperated voice, "Are you even remotely capable of not expressing every thought which crosses your mind?" 

Newt offers an eye roll. "Dude, you wouldn’t _believe_ the secrets I still have." 

"Such as the unfortunate incident in Princeton with the jellybeans?" Hermann smirks. 

" _You saw that_?! That’s unfair! You’re not allowed to use my memories against me!" he squalls. "Then again, I guess it’s okay you know, especially since it’s apparently funny enough to make you laugh, which is totally adorable on you and you should do it way more often, but it _doesn’t leave this room_. The police are still looking for us." Hermann’s chuckle and smile turn wicked. "Oh god. You’re going to blackmail me over this, aren’t you? Oh man, maybe I should’ve let the world end. You shouldn’t have this kind of power over me." Hermann grins, all teeth, then laughs maniacally. 

"You’re a monster!" Newt yelps. 

Hermann flinches and his laugh stops suddenly. 

"Okay. No," Newt says. "You’re _not_ going there. We’ve been over and over this. You’re a _person_ and you need to start remembering it." 

"I’m. Not. Human," Hermann rumbles and snaps his uninjured wing fully open. " _These_ are enough proof of that." 

"Oh, yeah. Body shape is the only thing that makes us human," Newt snarks. 

"I know very well that is not all," Hermann snarls, eyes boring into Newt. "You asked if I’d ever been in love. I thought I was, once, but she called me inhuman and left even before she learned exactly how monstrous I am." He looks down at his hands and chafes them against his arms, warming himself against the rising memories. "She wanted … things from me I didn’t know how … couldn’t give her. She left for a normal man." His voice lowers to a whisper. "I was about to tell her." 

"I’m so sorry, Hermann," Newt says softly. "She sounds kind of awful, actually." 

"How can you say that?" he bristles, wings trembling. "You never met her. She was more understanding and patient than anyone I’ve known. But she still wouldn’t have me, even without knowing the full extent of my abnormality." 

"For fuck’s sake, Hermann, there was obviously something wrong with her! Anyone with enough functioning neurons to breathe would be happy to have you! I…." He violently shakes his head. "Look, the people who love you love _you_. It’s just … you. _You_ happen in come with a pair of big, beautiful wings. You’re not more or less of anything. You’re _you_. And _you_ are pretty awesome." 

"That’s very well for you to say, Newton, but … ." 

"Shut up! Stop arguing with me about this!" 

Before Hermann can come up with a retort or brace himself, Newt lunges at him. He firmly cups Hermann’s chin and kisses him hard on the lips, exploiting Hermann’s gasp of surprise to nip at his lower lip. Hermann shoves him away, looking absolutely horrified and trembling with what appears to be terror. 

" _Ohshit_. I don’t … I didn’t … Forget … Forget I did that! No! Just ... I don’t know! I wasn’t thinking!" Newt turns and flees the room, grabbing his clothes on the way, leaving a stunned and frozen Hermann in his wake. 

Hermann sits, completely immobile, as the door slams. _Not again_ , he thinks. _Not again_. _Tendo is obviously wrong_. _Newton is no different from her_. _I had hoped_ … _wished_. He clenches and relaxes his fists, watching his muscles slide under the matching scars on the inside of both his forearms. 

 _I’m stronger now_ , he tells himself. _I can end this before it becomes more painful_. _I need to protect myself_. _That is most important_. 

He rubs his eyes, catching the few tears which had formed but not fallen, and heaves himself to his feet. He leans on his cane as he opens the closet and reaches inside to gather up Newton’s things. 

Evening arrives without Hermann ever leaving his quarters. He sits as his desk as he has for most of the day, not working, caught in a near-mindless meditation, forehead resting on his crossed arms on the work surface. He listens to the sound of his own breathing and the air whispering through his feathers. _This is the right thing to do_. _The only thing to do_. _Best stop matters before we are both badly hurt_. _I’m protecting Newton as well as myself_. _This will not be another Anchorage_. _I will not let it be_. He shivers and pulls his uninjured wing tightly around himself. "It’s all I can do," he whispers. "It’s the only thing to do. It is." 

A pounding at the door interrupts his thoughts. Newt bangs arrhythmically and shouts in a mixture of angry English and broken German curses. The yelling grows louder as the minutes pass and Hermann relents. Newt is red-faced and shaking when Hermann opens the door. 

" _What_ are you _doing_ , Hermann?" Newt hisses as he points at the box resting on the step outside the door. "What is this about?" Hermann gestures for him to step inside. Newt seizes the container full of his neatly folded clothes with his meds tucked underneath and his toothbrush on top, and stomps into the room. He whirls and faces Hermann. "What’re you doing?" he repeats. 

"Newton," Hermann begins shakily, very deliberately not meeting Newt’s eyes. "I believe this has gone on long enough. I-I think we should resume our separate lives." As he finishes, Hermann finally makes eye contact. 

"This … this is because I kissed you," Newt whispers. His voice rises to a squeaky shout as he continues, "You’re throwing me out because I’m interested in you? _Really_?" 

"It is for the best," Hermann says levely. 

"You think so? Really?" Newt’s voice jumps then settles back to its normal range as his startled expression gives way to a determined one. "I’ve … been thinking…. Look. I’ve been happier since we started … whatever this is," he says with a sweep of his hand that encompasses Hermann and the space they’d been sharing. "I think _you’ve_ been happier, too. So why the _hell_ are you trying to end it? You _want_ to go back to being lonely?" 

"I want to end it because it’s not going to work." 

"Why not?" Newt demands. 

"I do not want to discuss this with you. I ask you to respect my decision. Please take your things and go." Hermann’s voice is flat and his eyes remain focused on the floor. 

" _No_. I’m not going _anywhere_ until you explain to me _clearly and logically_ why I have to." Newt crosses his arms over his chest and steps closer. Hermann takes a step back. 

"Newton, I don’t want to argue. Please go." 

"You? _Not_ argue? Did banging your head yesterday morning actually cause brain damage? Show me your eyes again." Newt takes another step forward. Hermann holds his ground and wards Newt off with his hands. 

" _Don’t touch me_!" he shouts. "I am fine. I am simply convinced our lives will be be better going forward if we separate now, before we become too dependent on each other." 

" _Oh my god_! You are the most impossible idiot I’ve ever argued with!" Newt throws up his hands and leans farther into Hermann’s space. "Being together is not a weakness! Needing others is not a weakness! Enjoying another person is not a weakness! Humans are social animals. We’re _meant_ to be together!" 

"Again, you forget I am not a human being. That bit of conventional wisdom does not apply to me," Hermann replies stiffly. 

"Shut _up_! _Stop that_! I’m _sick_ of having this argument with you! You’re a great _person_ and I seriously want to stay together and see where this goes. _I_ think _that’s_ the right decision," he declares. "Before you start shouting back, _my_ argument is backed up by the fact we’ve been happy and comfortable together. _You’ve_ only got fear and baggage on your side." 

"You obviously don’t understand!" 

"This where you go into the ‘promises are lies’ speech?" Newt says while putting on a bored expression. "That line of argument isn’t going to work." 

"Newton, you have no idea of the promises made me and how quickly they were broken." Hermann fixes Newt with a stare. "Your behavior this morning indicates you are no different from those I attached myself to before." 

"What do you think you are, some kind of mine? You going to explode if someone gets too close?" Newt needles. 

" _Yes_!" Hermann screams. "Goddamn it, Newton, go away and leave me alone!" 

"Oh, no." Newt shakes his head exaggeratedly. "You’d like that _too_ much. I’m not leaving you alone to crawl back into your sweatervest of self-loathing," he says. "I-I know I fucked up this morning, okay? I mean, you’re--what’s the word?--touch-starved, right? It’s not like people have ever been physical with you and I just hauled off and kissed you. Of _course_ it’s going to freak you right out. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t punch me. I totally deserved it, jumping you like that. Consent’s important. If you don’t throw me out—please don’t throw me out—I’ll behave myself. I swear. Nothing without permission as long as you need, even if it’s forever, okay? If you’re not into touching and kissing and sex, that’s cool. I’m cool with that. Just tell me what you want." 

"You can’t mean that." 

"I mean every word of it. Cross my heart." 

"I don’t know what to say." 

"Hermann, it’s not that hard. Tell me what you want." 

"I say I don’t know! I don’t know what I should want! I don’t know what I can want!" He gestures so viciously he cane clatters to the floor. Newt reaches to steady him and he throws himself back and away, barely catching himself with the edge of his desk. He swats away Newt’s extended hand and glares with everything he has at the other man. " _I_. _Don’t_. _Know_ ," he growls. 

"Okay. Okay." Newt makes a placating gesture. "Let’s take a step back and look at this rationally. We’ve both been happy more often than not and more often than before since we ... moved in together, right?" 

Hermann gives a cautious nod. 

"We both agree that being happy is good." 

"As long as the source of happiness does not cause harm to another." 

"A condition which doesn’t apply here, Hermann." 

Hermann responds affirmatively with another wary nod. 

"My proposal is this; We roll with this for as long as it lasts as long as we’re both happy, whether romance happens or not. Maybe—and I really hope this doesn’t happen—we wind up with jobs in different places and we go our separate ways in month. Or maybe we score a gig together and keep it going. I’d love to at least give it a try. What do you say?" Newt looks at Hermann hopefully.

"Newton … ." 

"Please?" 

Very quietly, Hermann says "Fine." 

Newt slouches in relief. "Celebratory hug?" he asks. 

Hermann leans in Newt’s space and embraces him ginglerly, then tightly, letting the other man support much of his weight. 

"Thanks for giving me a chance," Newt says. "You won’t regret it." 

"I had better not," Hermann replies as he releases his hold. Newt grins up at him. I hope not, Hermann thinks. Please god, I hope not. "I believe I need to retire for the evening. I’ve had entirely too much excitement today and that is completely your fault. If you hadn’t … ." 

"Whoa, dude! Let’s argue tomorrow after you’ve dreamed up some new horrible things to call me. Right now, I think we both deserve some beauty sleep. Am I right?" Hermann grumbles an agreement. 

Hermann shuffles to the bed and eases himself down and into his usual position on the far side, on his stomach, wings folded loosely against his back. Comfortable, he beckons Newt to join him with a motion of a wing. 

Newt shucks off his clothes down to his boxers and slips under the proffered wing. After asking permission, Newt presses his back to Hermann’s side and Hermann leans into the contact cautiously. 

 _Please let this be the rare occasion where second-guessing myself pays off_ , Hermann thinks. 

"Hermann, you’re worrying so loud I can hear you. Relax and go to sleep," Newt throws over his shoulder. 

Hermann sighs. _I am happy now and that’s enough_. _It’s enough_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That kiss? Yeah, that’s the exact moment Newt escaped my control and really took this thing over. I wrote the incident back around chapter four and finally found it a home here.
> 
> Feel free to ask any questions or make any suggestions you have in the comments or message me at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com). The plot didn’t let me answer any this time around, but rest assured I haven’t forgotten about them.


	12. Trust, secret missions, Akira, and cookies in bed

Despite a promising start, Newt sleeps poorly, waking every few hours, fretting over the previous day. The kiss eats away at him. 

 _What the hell was I thinking_? he scolds himself. _I almost blew_ everything _right there_. _You don’t_ do _that without asking_ , _especially when you’re dealing with someone like Hermann_. _Especially after he confesses his last relationship imploded because his significant other wanted to move too fast_. _Or wanted something he didn’t_. 

 _But_ … _he let me back in_. _He let me back in bed_. _My stuff’s back in the closet and bathroom_. _Why did he let me back in_? 

 _Throwing me out was reflex_. _He’s been so lonely and so afraid of letting other people get close_ , _there wasn’t anything else he could see to do_. _Whatever he wanted_ — _if he even let himself want it_ — _he had to do what he taught himself to do_. _But now he’s trusting me to be different_. 

 _He_ … _trusts me_. _He trusts_ me. _He trusted me with his life_. _He trusts me with his secret_. _He trusts me with his health_. _It’s sappy_ , _but he trusts me with his heart now_. _I can’t let him down_. 

 _I can do this_. _I’ve faced down kaiju bare-handed and saved humanity from an alien invasion_. _I can take care of one grumpy_ , _scared British mathematician_. 

Newt rolls over to study Hermann’s face. He moves a hand to stroke Hermann’s hair, but freezes before it’s covered half the distance. _Consent_ , he reminds himself. He contents himself with soaking up the shared warmth caught under Hermann’s wing while he waits for the other man to wake. 

The first hint Newt gets that Hermann is awake is a dainty fluttering of his wings. Hermann blinks his eyes as he tries to focus on Newt. "How long have you been staring at me?" he asks groggily. 

"A while," Newt answers with a sly smile. 

"See anything you like?" 

"Yeah. That’s the whole reason I was staring." 

Hermann blinks more forcefully as the implication of the exchange sinks in. "What have I let myself in for?" he mumbles. 

"I’m not sure yet, Hermann, but it should probably start with meds, a shower, and some breakfast." 

Hermann excuses himself after they finish their meal in the mess, saying he needs to pop into the city on an errand and politely turns down Newt’s offer to accompany him. He walks off, looking straighter and stronger to Newt than he has since Christmas, and Newt directs his own steps to the lab. On the way he thinks how odd it seems for Hermann to head into the city at all, let alone on his own. He almost never leaves the base. 

The lab feels empty without Hermann and the constant scratching of his chalk. _Did it always feel this way or is this new_? Newt wonders. 

Work needs to be done, ends tied up, but Newt’s heart isn’t in it. He pokes indifferently at one of his last kaiju samples until he hears the ‘new mail’ chime on his tablet. He scoots his office chair over to the table where he left it and quickly reads the new message. 

" _Yes_! _I_. _AM_. _AWESOME_!" he yells to the empty room, raising both hands over his head and waving them in triumph. At least, he thought it was an empty room. 

"Am I interrupting your daily ego-stroking session, Newton?" Hermann deadpans as he walks to his main desk carrying a small package wrapped in brown paper under his arm. 

"Nah. That was earlier. I was congratulating myself on a job well done, but I can’t tell you what it was yet." 

"Oh dear, how _will_ I endure the suspense?" Hermann says with a theatrical gesture. "If you’ll excuse me, I’m headed back to my quarters. My errand seems to have taken more out of me than I anticipated." 

"Dude, you should know your limits better by now," Newt calls over his shoulder before he spins around and realizes Hermann is already out of earshot. "Jeez, he’s moving fast for a guy who says he’s sore," Newt mumbles. 

Newt spots the package Hermann brought with him sitting on of the worktables. Dude was in such a hurry he left it behind, he thinks. He gets up and walks over to the package, planning to pick it up and return it to Hermann, and reaches for it, only half-paying attention. He almost misses seeing the label written in Hermann’s twitchy scrawl. 

It reads ‘Happy birthday, Newt’. 

Newt stares in shock. He remembered my birthday. Even _I_ forgot today is my birthday. And he called me ‘Newt’, which is a miracle and a present in itself. 

Curiosity burning, Newt tears through the paper. He finds the third volume of _Akira_ , a replacement for the only book that was ruined when a water pipe in his quarters started leaking the year before. Newt had been too busy to track down a copy. 

This … this was too goddamn sweet. 

Newt makes a phone call then grabs his tablet and the book and strolls back to their room, after a brief detour to the mess hall. He knocks and lets himself in, book under his arm, and singsongs "I brought cookies!" 

Hermann sighs and looks up from his reading and over his glasses at Newt. He sits on the bed shirtless with his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, a hot water bottle resting across his bad knee. "Oh good. I was so looking forward to spending an evening with a Newton Geiszler nursing a sugar rush." 

"You’re lucky they didn’t have cake," Newt replies. Hermann snorts. "Seriously, these are to tide us over until dinner gets here." 

"You’re not eating those in bed. You’ll get crumbs everywhere." 

Newt rolls his eyes. "Then get out of bed and eat one before your blood sugar crashes and you get even crankier." Hermann clears his throat and inclines his head toward his knee. "Or you could just go wild and eat a cookie in bed," Newt says. Hermann grumbles but accepts the food and nibbles at it. 

Three-quarters of an hour later, Newt’s phone gives a tiny roar. "I can’t believe you use that sound as a ringtone," Hermann remarks. 

Newt looks offended. When he disconnects, he says "I’ll have you know that’s the first kaiju sound ever recorded. It’s a bit of history!" 

"It’s obnoxious." 

"We’ll finish this later. I have to go collect our food," he says and darts out the door. 

Newt returns with an armful of takeout boxes. "Best Indian in the district," he crows. "I got your favorite." 

"What’s the occasion?" Hermann asks, peering into one of the boxes searching for the promised _saag paneer_. 

"Don’t play dumb, Mister I’m-going-to-leave-a-really-sweet-present-for-you-to-find-but-pretend-to-know-nothing-about-it," Newt orders as he scootches across the bed to sit next to Hermann. 

"I take it you approve of my selection?" Hermann focuses very thoroughly on his meal. 

"I _love_ it. Now that I have the whole set again, you need to read it." Hermann laughs a little. "You know you want to," Newt teases. 

They finish the meal in companionable silence and sit reading side-by-side until they tire. Newt notices he and Hermann are passing a yawn back and forth and pulls the tablet out of Hermann’s hands and takes his glasses away. Hermann protests with a sleepy noise, but Newt ignores him and gets up to stow the items and collect Hermann’s evening medications. 

As Newt turns off the lights and slips into bed, he says "Don’t take the Oxford job, Hermann. Or any other job. Yet. Please?" 

"Why not?" 

"I’m working on something better." 

"Congratulations, Newton," Hermann says as he finishes arranging himself for the night. "I hope it's what you've been searching for, but I fail to see what your job prospects have to do with my future employment." 

"I’m working on something better for both of us," Newt corrects himself. "Promise me you’ll give me a week to set it up and pitch it to you." 

"I suppose a week couldn’t hurt," Hermann concedes. 

"Thanks, dude. And stop hogging all that wing. It’s cold over here." 

Hermann sighs and stretches his wing a little further over Newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing special to say this time. Remember to ask any questions you have or make suggestions about what you want to see in the comments.


	13. Showers, Max, lab accidents, recordings, probation, and pennies

"Hey, sleepyhead. Time to rise and shine," Newt chirps, wrenching Hermann out of a peaceful dream of riding the updrafts around a small, hilly island in a velvety bay. 

Hermann pries his eyelids open and finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with a grinning Newt. 

"You had best have a good reason for waking me at this ungodly hour, Newton," he grumbles. 

"‘Fraid so, Doctor. It’s already eight. You were so exhausted last night, I didn’t have the heart to wake you earlier, but you really need to get going to be ready in time for the staff meeting. We get our talking points for the UN assigned today. Oh boy," he says with mock glee. 

Hermann sighs and drags himself to the bathroom. Newt’s assessment of his energy level is correct. Marshal Hansen gave him the task of escorting a group of municipal officials through all of the spaces currently and formerly occupied by K-Science and the walking and politely answering the mostly inane questions drained his reserves. His muscles ache and he looks forward to unlimited hot water (one of the few perks of Shatterdome life) and the soothing effect it has on his knee. 

He unwraps the gauze from his broken wing and flexes both of his feathered limbs through their full range of motion. The healing fracture still throbs uncomfortably, but the pain is already negligible compared to the first days after the injury. 

Leaning into the shower, Hermann adjusts the water temperature and tests it with his hand before stepping in. As always, he carefully avoids letting too much water to splash onto his wings and shivers them regularly to shake off any drops that collect. He learned long ago his feathers are not waterproof and soak up liquid like giant sponges; sponges which become very heavy very quickly. 

He scrubs himself thoroughly then leans on the wall and allows the hot spray to massage and run down his legs, sighing as some of the soreness melts away. 

"All good things must end," he mumbles as he turns off the water and carefully steps out. He shakes his wings a last time, towels off efficiently, swallows his morning prescriptions, and brushes his teeth. 

Newt waits for him in the main body of the room to help him complete their morning ritual: a check on his wing’s healing, resecuring the splint, wrapping first the injured wing then the uninjured one. It surprises Hermann how quickly this interaction became routine. He chooses not to think about it, focusing instead on living and reacting moment to moment. 

Ready to face the world outside their quarters, the two scientists walk side-by-side to the conference room, Newt matching his pace to Hermann’s and chattering the entire way. Hermann occasionally interrupts with a snide comment, mostly because it’s expected. 

Hermann’s talking points match his predictions. He and Newt will be responsible for answering questions about how the Breach functioned, how it was collapsed, and the scientific justification for using a nuclear explosion in the process of sealing it. Hermann makes a mental note to include information on how little radiation was released to close the Breach compared to how large a release was necessary to bring down the kaiju before the advent of the Jaegers. 

After that the meeting bores Hermann, as such things usually do, so he entertains himself by seeing how far he can carry the Fibonacci sequence without making notes. He reaches 8-digit numbers before they are finally adjourned. 

As he and Newt chat with Tendo, Herc Hansen stands nearby talking with Raleigh Becket and loosely holding Max’s leash. 

Max sniffs Newt’s boots, then turns his attention to Hermann’s oxfords. The bulldog takes a single snuffle and barks up at the mathematician. Max bounces backward two steps, barks again, and bows, eagerly wagging his stubby tail. As Hermann and Newt watch with curiosity, Max repeats: bounce, bark, bow. The dog prances up to Hermann and gums the hem of his trousers, giving it a gentle tug. 

"Oi! Max! Leave the doctor alone!" Herc yanks the leash and tows Max back to his side. "Sorry, Doctor. He’s never done that to anyone except Lieutenant Ishibashi in Osaka," Herc says, sounding embarrassed. "He wants to play with yeh." 

Newt tries to suppress a laugh by biting his lip, while Hermann alternates between scowling at Max and Newt. "What’s so funny?" Hermann demands. 

"Heh! I can’t think of anyone who’s less of a dog person than you, dude." His eyes widen and breaks into a mischievous smile. "‘Course, you’re probably even less of a cat person … ." 

Hermann responds with a sharp rap on Newt’s shin with his cane and a potent look of disapproval. Newt keeps giggling even though he limps noticeably on the way back to the lab. 

"Have you ever met Lieutenant Ishibashi, Newton?" Hermann asks as they walk. 

"Never heard of ‘em," Newt says with a shrug. 

"The lieutenant is a falconer." 

Newt stops mid-stride. "So Max is a bird dog?" Hermann glares and waves his cane threateningly. "You _totally_ set that one up, dude," Newt says with a laugh. 

Hermann collects the appropriate records from his file cabinets and begins preparing his presentation at the lab’s holo-projector. He sits ramrod straight and tacks away at the keys, pausing periodically to contemplate the best way to explain complex physics to the same men who apparently lacked the insight to see a flaw in depending on a wall to defend against flying monsters. 

After a few listless days, Newt seems to have regained his enthusiasm for dissection and Hermann hears him happily slicing away at some kaiju organ or another. 

Their work goes well, and quietly, until late in the evening when the blasted holo-projector’s software hangs and the machine automatically reboots, destroying at least twenty minutes of Hermann’s effort. Hermann curses loudly and creatively in German. His swearing causes an echo, as Newt shouts something which isn’t quite German, but which indicates he is in considerable pain. 

Hermann heaves himself to his feet and crosses the lab to where Newt stands bathing his hand in the chemical spray from the decontamination sink, grabbing the first aid kit on his way. "What have you done to yourself this time, Newton?" he asks. Simultaneously, he notes the long, but thankfully shallow cut on the side of Newt’s left hand. Straight edges, he thinks, three butterfly sutures to close it and a bandage over the top to protect it for the first day. 

"My hand slipped and I nailed myself with a scalpel," Newt spits. "Goddammit, it _hurts_!" 

"Stop whinging. You should be used to this by now. It’s only superficial and the gel will numb it soon enough," Hermann says. The decon cycle ends and Hermann quickly proceeds to rinse away the last chemicals and press a bandage covered in analgesic gel to Newt’s injury. 

"If you hadn’t yelled and scared me, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t harp at me for something that’s your fault!" 

"This is my fault? Did I drive you to this?" Hermann snarls, pointedly staring at the other man. 

" _You fucking liar_! You did listen!" Newt shrieks. 

"Of course I listened, you idiot! You’d nearly killed yourself! You nearly scared me to death! Against all by better judgement I care about you! I had to know what you’d done and what you were thinking!" 

"You already _knew_ what I was thinking! The same thing I’d been thinking for weeks! That it would work!" 

"I expected that," Hermann says through gritted teeth. "What I didn’t expect was you saying that whatever harm came to you was my fault, that I drove you to such dangerous action." 

"That was a _joke_! I was-wasn’t thinking! I _knew_ it would work!" 

Hermann fixes Newt with a level stare. "You’re lying," he declares. "I know your speech. You realized what could happen to you in the last moments before you activated your neural bridge. You let the message stand. You meant it." 

"I … but … I didn’t … ," Newt stammers. 

"You nearly died and it was my fault." 

"Dammit, dude!" Newt rips his hand from Hermann’s grasp to gesture wildly. "Not everything is your fault! I made my own choice and you had nothing to do with it." 

"If I’d supported you in front of the Marshal maybe … ," Hermann argues, reinstating his hold on Newt’s hand and checking under the bandage to see if the bleeding had stopped. 

" _Maybe_ nothing would’ve changed or _maybe_ they would’ve given me the equipment and it wouldn’t have worked. Or _maybe_ the real gear actually would’ve killed me. No matter what happened, though, _you_ would’ve been the one right there to save me." He waves a finger in Hermann’s face. "Besides, whose bright idea was it for you to Drift with me?" 

"Hold still," Hermann orders as he cleans the gel from Newt’s hand and applies the butterfly stitches. "That may be the case, if only because I seem to be alone in understanding how much trouble you cause for yourself and others when left unsupervised." 

"I’m not _that_ bad," Newt responds with an eye roll. "Does the fact you’re making fun of me instead of yelling at me now mean you’ve forgiven me for the stupid message?" 

"Newton … ," Hermann begins, then notes Newt’s pleading expression. His own scowl softens into a half-smile. "Perhaps I’ll forgive you after several decades of good behavior," he says. 

"You’re putting me on probation?" Newt shrills. "For decades?" 

Hermann quirks an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?" 

"Umm. Wait," Newt says as his brain’s gears mesh, "That implies you’re expecting me to be around for decades." 

"I expect you to keep coming back like a bad penny." 

"Hey! I’m worth way more than a penny." New shrugs. "Besides, no one’s made those since 2016." 

"It’s an idiom, Newton," Hermann says. 

"It’s a stupid idiom, Hermann," Newt huffs. 

"I suppose you have a better expression to hand?" 

"No, but we should probably get back to our room before you stoop to cliches. Or, even worse, puns," New says with mock seriousness before dodging a half-hearted cane swing from Hermann. 

Evening rituals complete, Newt suggests, "One last check on the wing?" He inspects the break to check its healing. "It feels solid," he says "Want to sleep with it loose?" Hermann nods and allows himself a small smile. 

The two men climb into bed side by side. Hermann drapes both an arm and a wing over Newt. "I’m keeping you where I can see you," he murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the name Ishibashi rings a bell, [this may be the reason](http://www.japanprobe.com/2012/04/08/schoolgirl-falconer-fights-crows/).
> 
> A comment from sherriaisling inspired the Max incident.
> 
> Feel free to ask any questions or make any suggestions you have in the comments or message me at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com).


	14. Healed, chalkboards, kiwis, fetch, and acceptance

Newt runs his hand lightly along the leading edge of the wing Hermann holds over him, thrilling a little tiny bit at the softness of the feathers under his touch. Experimentation and grudging permission from the wing’s owner led to Newt’s discovery … petting is the wake-up call most likely to produce a Hermann who is conscious and in a good mood. Newt always figured Hermann for the sort who would set obnoxiously loud alarms and pop out of bed fully awake at the first beep. The Hermann he’s been living and sleeping with for the past three weeks, though, wants a gentle touch, slowly crawls to consciousness, and whines almost as much as Newt for five more minutes of sleep on days without early morning appointments. It surprises the hell out of him every morning he has to wake Hermann. 

Today Hermann opens his eyes with minimal grumbling and lets Newt help him to his feet and hand him his cane. "How’s the wing feel this morning?" Newt asks. 

Hermann shifts his weight to his cane and flexes both wings a few times through their full range of motion, from tight against his back to fully open and brushing the walls on either side of him. "Nearly as good as new," Hermann says as he lets them relax into a neutral position against his back. 

"It feels rock-solid, too," Newt agrees as he presses through the feathers to feel the bone. "Without an xray—which you’ll never agree to, I know—to confirm it, I’ll say it’s safe to take the splint off. Everything I’ve read says it should be healed by now, so let me get this thing off you." 

Hermann complains about Newt’s roughness as the medical tape holding the splint in place pulls out feathers as it’s removed and mutters about it all the way to the shower. 

"I have a happy No-More-Splint-Day present for you," Newt singsongs as Hermann exits the bathroom. "Tahdah!" he shouts and brandishes a soft garment with a few snaps and straps made in a pale flesh color. 

"A new binding?" 

"Yup! Try it on! It should be a _lot_ more comfortable than the old thing." Newt fairly vibrates with excitement. 

Hermann shrugs into the item and snugs it down. He checks his outline in the mirror. 

"Well, wha’d you think?" 

"It seems to do the job well enough," Hermann admits as he continues studying his reflection. 

"Which means it works perfectly. How does it feel?" 

"It is marginally more comfortable." 

"Which translates to you are wrapped in a little slice of heaven," Newt says with obvious satisfaction. "I’ve got enough material to make two more, so I’ll whip those up the next time we have some downtime." 

"Where did you learn to sew?" 

"Cosplay. _X-Files_ , _Evangelion_ , _Harry Potter_. I made a bunch." Newt starts to shrug but freezes mid-gesture. "Hey! Maybe we can use your feathers to make costume wings as a sideline!" 

" _No_. I destroy any I shed and I will continue to do so as not to face questions about their source." 

"Huh. Don’t suppose we can save some of your down for pillow … ." 

" _No_ , Newton." 

"But it’s so soft and fluffy!" He buries his face in the thick pad of coverts on the underside of Hermann’s wing. 

Hermann pushes Newt away. "Newton, I’m afraid if you want feather pillows you’ll need to acquire the materials from proper birds." 

"Aw, come on," Newt whines and takes a step forward. 

Hermann sighs then snaps the offended wing through a sharp beat, striking Newt in the face with enough force to knock his glasses crooked and leave a fine coating of powder down all over him. 

Newt sputters, trying to clear the dust from his mouth, before sneezing hard enough to see stars. "No fair!" he yelps as he struggles to clean his glasses on the hem of his shirt, succeeding only in smearing the powder around. 

"I get it now!" he says excitedly. "The chalkboards!" Hermann sighs again, plucks the glasses from Newt’s face and clears the smudges with a handkerchief he pulls from a pocket. "This stuff looks exactly like chalk dust! The boards are a disguise!" Hermann replaces Newt’s glasses. 

"It’s misdirection. No one asks questions if they believe they already have the answer," he says. 

"Genius, dude. Pure genius," Newt marvels. Hermann responds with a smug smile before dressing and leading the way to breakfast and the lab. 

Hermann perches behind his desk and checks his email. Newt stares at the back of his head for a moment before pulling a slab of kaiju pituitary out of the cooler and setting up to make slides for microscopic examination. As he finishes excising the segment he wants, Hermann clears his throat to attract Newt’s attention. Newt pauses in his work to listen. 

"Oxford wants an answer from me soon, Newton," Hermann says. "May I have your permission to stop delaying?" 

"Well, uh, not just yet," Newt stalls while he debates how much of the story to tell and walks across the lab to lean against Hermann’s desk. "I didn't want to tell you about this until I had more of the details worked out, but these people I'm talking to want both of us. As a set. For their new long-term project." 

Hermann raises his eyebrows in interest. "Which university?" he asks. 

"It's not a university. It's New Zealand." 

"New Zealand doesn't exist as a nation anymore." 

"That's why they want us. The government-in-exile wants to reclaim Auckland. We'd be in charge of figuring out how to run the environmental cleanup of the coastline. They'll give us the Bay of Islands as a testbed and we get to pick our own team and they’ll guarantee five years of full funding. It's a really sweet deal, dude." 

"That seems like a position for a biologist such as yourself, but I don't see how a mathematician could be of use." 

"They don't want a mathematician. They want _you_ because you're the best modeler of complex systems in the world." 

"That is certainly an overstatement," Hermann sniffs. 

"You accurately simulated the goddamn Breach! The best anyone else has is weather systems or tidal flows," Newt argues. "They really want _you_. So, yeah, I need you not to go to Oxford." 

"If I do, will your 'sweet deal' fall through?" 

Newt begins to lose his temper. " _No_. You're missing the point here. I'm setting this up for us." 

"Why … ?" 

"I want to stay together," he says simply. He hugs Hermann and rests his head against the taller man's chest. "Look, I really think New Zealand is a better idea than Oxford." Newt suddenly facepalms and Hermann jumps at the unexpected motion. "I forgot to mention the _island_! We get our own island, Hermann. _Ours_. Just ours. _No neighbors_. It’s small, but you won’t have to hide or worry about someone walking in on you. You can work and just … be _you_ for once. Will you at least think about it before you sign a contract? Please?" Newt begs. 

Hermann grudgingly agrees to think the matter over with an inscrutable expression before turning back to his work. Newt trudges back to his worktable and forces himself through the rest of the steps to prepare the slides. 

 _What if Hermann says ‘no’_ , he worries. _I never thought he’d say ‘no’_ , _but he really didn’t seem enthused about it_. _What’s wrong with him_? _Who wouldn’t want his own_ island? _I guess it’s an island versus a job he’s been dreaming about for_ , _like_ , _twenty years_. _It’s probably normal for a guy to want to think something like this over_. _I did just sort of spring it on him. It’s a big deal_ , _a big change from what he’s been doing and maybe an even bigger change from what he thought he’d be doing before K-Day_. 

Newt’s thoughts stay crowded and nervous through the morning and lunch, so much so that he ruins two batches of slides before he manages to focus well enough to do it right. 

Newt loses track of Hermann around midafternoon. He blames the earbuds. He couldn’t hear Hermann stop scribbling away over Black Sabbath. Newt’s stomach rumbles, reminding him that they have a date with an excellent homestyle Chinese restaurant in the city. Which means he needs to locate Hermann the old-fashioned way, since the guy refuses to wear a watch or carry a phone, before the restaurant cancels their reservation. 

Newt wracks his brain as he rather aimlessly wanders halls beginning to empty of PPDC personnel. _Where could Hermann have gotten to_? he asks himself. He’s not in the normal places: the lab, their quarters, Tendo’s office. 

He rounds a corner and bumps into a Max-less Herc Hansen. "Seen your other half lately?" the Australian asks. 

Newt fights down the reflex to argue about being half of anything with Hermann and answers with a shake of his head. "Not for a while. I’m actually looking for him now. Why do you need him?" 

"He offered to walk Max a couple of hours ago and he hasn't come back yet. If yeh find him, gimme a ring." Newt agrees and the Marshal waves in thanks and continues his walk. 

If I was Hermann _and_ I had a dog, where would I go? He can't have gotten far, Newt thinks. He decides to trust to chance and picks turns at random. In a few minutes his steps carry him to any empty helicopter hangar. Knowing these places always have more than one door, Newt ventures deeper. Halfway across the cavernous space, he hears a gruff snuffling noise. 

He spots Hermann sitting on a lonely packing crate scratching the ears of a very happy Max, who lies half on his lap. Newt strolls over as Hermann and Max continue their quiet interaction, oblivious to his approach. 

"Am I interrupting anything?" Newt asks. Both Max and Hermann startle and Max hops to the floor to sniff Newt's shoes. Hermann shakes his head and motions for Newt to sit next to him on the crate. Newt shifts a well-chewed and damp tennis ball and a short length of heavy rope and and drops himself into place. 

Max barks and bows in front of Hermann and the man picks up the ball and tosses it underhanded across the room. Max scrabbles excitedly after it. "Looks like you've made a friend," Newt says as Max returns at a trot. Hermann reclaims the ball, throws it again, and smiles as Max races after it. "Hansen's starting to think you kidnapped him." 

Hermann chuckles. "I suppose I should bring him back to his family," he says as Max comes back with the ball wagging his tail. "We're also going to be late for our dinner if we don't leave soon, aren't we?" Newt agrees. Hermann takes the ball from Max and snaps the leash to his collar. He scratches the dog's ears again. 

"Newton," he says without looking away from Max, "I've been thinking." Newt swallows a smartass remark. Something tells him what Hermann's about to say needs his respect and full attention. His stomach stops grumbling for a moment and shifts to churning nauseatingly. 

"If the offer you made this morning still stands," Hermann continues, "I’d like to accept the position." Newt’s entire person lights up as Hermann finishes his declaration. 

"Really? Seriously?" he asks, voice cracking with delight. 

"Yes, I’m serious," Hermann says impatiently. "It’s an opportunity to do important work which could eventually be applied to positive effect around the world. It should also be intellectually stimulating for me." 

He pauses and smiles. "I must also admit the idea of a private island and opportunities to spend time in the sun greatly appeals to me." 

"And I’m going to be there," Newt chimes in. 

Hermann fights a smile threatening to grow. "And you’re going to be there." 

"You’re making the right call. You won’t regret this, dude." 

"I know," Hermann says. 

Newt eyes widen and he blinks twice, before he embraces Hermann tightly enough to push some of the air from the man’s lungs. "Let’s get Max back to his person and haul ourselves to dinner," he says as he releases his hold. Newt stands and offers his hand to help Hermann to his feet. Hermann accepts and they amble toward the main body of the Shatterdome with Max padding at their heels. 

That night as Newt dozes off snuggled against Hermann’s side, listening to his steady heartbeat, he realizes Hermann accepted his help to stand and move twice that day. He didn’t swat Newt’s hands away or yell at him. He’s letting me help. Holy shit. 

Newt brushes a tiny kiss against Hermann’s shoulder. "Thanks," he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Tumblrites who suggested cosplay ideas for Newt. I couldn’t decide between them, so I used them all.
> 
> Why is there no New Zealand in this world? It basically comes down to math. In the film, we hear that the US’s ‘safe zones’ are located 300 miles inland. New Zealand, at its widest is only 450 miles across. In some places, like Auckland, the islands are less than 100 miles across. There’s nowhere to create a ‘safe zone’ per contemporary thinking. With only 4,000,000 people in the entire country and with Auckland already having been attacked at least once (per the novelization) and considering Auckland hosts a full quarter of the national population, it seems like a better idea to abandon the islands to the sheep and the wildlife and move the citizens to larger land masses than to try and defend them from giant alien sea monsters. The idea was first suggested by an anonymous poster on the kinkmeme. The poster also wondered if the Philippines would suffer a similar fate. I flipped a coin and wound up with New Zealand.
> 
> The island has honestly been in the works since I closed the PPDC many chapters ago. All of your comments strengthened my resolve to make it happen.
> 
> Oh yeah. Powder down. Owls have special feathers designed to break down into a fine powder to help properly maintain their feathers. Most birds secret an oil and spread it through their feathers by preening for the same purpose. Owls preen, too, but the lack of oil is part of why their feathers are not waterproof.
> 
> As usual, ask questions or make suggestions in the comment or at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com).


	15. Models, flights, Gattaca, and exhausted fretting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A little art for you](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com/post/79772564197/commissioned-from-yimmygo-a-little-hermann-trying), commissioned from [yimmygo](http://yimmygo.tumblr.com/).

Hermann shudders awake from a familiar nightmare made worse by the addition of the dizziness-inducing colors of the Anteverse. He steadies himself with carefully controlled breathing and a quick touch of his chest reassures himself no blood leaks from the deep incision he dreamed a doctor had cut. 

The last thing Hermann wants to do is doze off again for fear of falling back into the nightmare. He stares at the wall and tries to think wakeful thoughts. Newt’s request that Hermann wake him when Hermann had a bad dream floats through his mind. _Should I wake Newton at this early hour_ , _especially as today will be a horribly long day of intercontinental travel_? he wonders. _Fifteen hours on a military flight from Hong Kong to Geneva promises to be torturous and at least one of us should arrive well-rested_. 

Hermann debates for several more minutes, wings fluttering nervously. In the end, he elects to retrieve his tablet from under his pillow and spare glasses from their hiding place behind the headboard and continue his introductory reading on hydrological and meteorological modeling. He carefully adjusts the screen’s brightness to its dimmest setting in hopes of allowing Newt to sleep undisturbed. 

Shifting mental gears from mapping interdimensional portals to water flows and weather patterns has proved more troublesome than Hermann expected and he feels as though his cogs slip as often as they mesh. As he annotates the electronic text he worriedly chews on his lower lip. _Am I capable of this_? he asks himself. _Newton and my new employers are counting on me, but I must master a whole new method of thinking_. _I’m not sure I can learn quickly enough to be of use to them_. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and returns to the intricate interplay of freshwater streams and tidal currents at the boundary of land and sea. 

He snorts a laugh at himself. _When did I become a poet_? 

The noise wakes Newt. "Somebody’s in a good mood this morning … ," he says drowsily. Hermann heaves a tired sigh in response. Newt leans in closer and refocuses his eyes on his companion. "You didn’t sleep much, did you?" He reaches out and smooths Hermann’s sleep-ruffled hair. "You look like hell." 

"I never sleep well before travel," Hermann says. "I’ve been reading for quite a while." Newt squints at him. "What?" he asks. 

"You had a nightmare, too. You’ve got those wrinkles under your eyes that spell ‘bad dream’." Hermann closes his eyes and leans into Newt’s hand in his hair. "Why didn’t you wake me up?" 

"I didn’t want to trouble you." 

Newt makes an exasperated noise. "That’s another thing we need to work on. I _want_ to be bothered when you’re upset like this. Seriously, dude. You don’t need to suffer." 

"There’s no need for both of us to lose sleep if I have a bad dream. I wouldn’t want to impose on you." 

"Start imposing already," Newt says with an eye roll. "Hey, aren’t we supposed to be getting on a plane, like, soon?" Hermann opens his eyes and thumbs his tablet back on. 

"In three-quarters of an hour." 

"Good thing you made us pack last night, huh?" 

Somehow the two scientists manage to get ready in time, even with the time they spend arguing over how tightly to bind Hermann’s wings. To Hermann’s amazement, Newt wins and Hermann’s wings are left as loose as he feels they can be without betraying their presence so they don’t stiffen too badly on the long flight. 

They argue amiably all the way to the airport, where they are allowed to skip the usual security checks by heading straight for the military side of the complex. Their companions—Herc Hansen, Mako Mori, Raleigh Becket, and Tendo Choi—sigh and roll their eyes in perfect sync. Newt and Hermann don’t notice or at least pretend they don’t. 

Conversation is quiet and limited on the flight. Everyone on board tries to conserve their energy. The next two days of interviews, appearances, and presentations before the United Nations will probably demand everything they can muster. 

Hermann, though, gives voice to a thought that’s been bothering him for a few days. "Newton," he says, "When did New Zealand contact you about about these positions you secured for us?" 

"Umm … technically, they didn’t. I … uh … called the science minister and volunteered our services." Hermann gapes. "Yup. Just cold-called her. That’s who I’ve been skyping on the sly for the last week or so, ever since you showed me your list of potential jobs. You can blame your sister for the idea." 

"Karla?" 

"Yeah. We’ve been trading ideas for years and she mentioned the minister’s office called to ask how close she was to finishing her project. I figured a package deal of you and me would get the attention of someone wanting to attack a kaiju-related problem," he says with a proud grin, "And I was right. We negotiated a bit and everything worked out. Now we’ve got a private island, nice paychecks, and all of the research toys we could need." 

"You’ve been emailing my sister for years? Without telling me?" 

"You’re one to talk about keeping secrets there, Archie," Newt taunts. Hermann fixes him with his best glare. With a snort, Newt pops in a set of earbuds and disappears into his music. Hermann picks up his tablet, shifts slightly in his seat, and begins to read. After a couple of hours, he gives up on technical papers and switches to the Russian science fiction anthology he’d downloaded the day before. After a few more hours, he falls asleep with his head on Newt’s shoulder. 

"Why does it always rain when we go out? I swear the little black cloud following you around causes this," Newt complains as he and Hermann exit the car which carries them from the airport to their hotel in Geneva’s city center. Hermann sniffs and pushes the fur trim of his parka hood out of his eyes as he stumps toward the hotel entrance. Newt gives up trying to keep the umbrella over the other man and centers himself beneath it for the rest of the short walk. 

Newt shucks his jacket onto the floor and flops face first into one of the beds in their assigned room. "Dude," he says, voice muffled in the duvet, "I totally forgot beds came in ‘luxurious’ and ‘big’. We might never find each other in here if we get separated. We’ll have to hold hands like otters so we don’t drift apart." 

Hermann scowls at him, but then looks about nervously. "What will I do with any feathers I shed? There’s no way to properly dispose of them here," he worries. 

"Trash isn’t good enough for you?" 

"They have to be completely destroyed before anyone finds them. Feathers retain DNA. I can’t risk someone discovering their origin and my true nature. I normally use your biohazard bins." 

Newt rolls over and makes a face. "Jesus christ, dude. This isn’t _Gattaca_. People don’t go around sequencing the DNA of random biological samples. We’ll put any you lose in our suitcases and take them with us. So relax. C’mere." He sits up and beckons Hermann over to him. 

Hermann eases himself down, sitting next to Newt on the edge of the bed with his sore leg stretched straight in front of himself. Newt tugs at the hem of his sweatervest. Hermann slowly pulls the garment off over his head before folding it and setting it aside. He adds the remainder of his clothes to the pile piece by piece. His exhausted fingers fumble with the buckles on his binder. Newt slaps Hermann’s hands away and undoes the straps for him. Hermann feels Newt’s hands linger longer than strictly necessary on his feathers as he slips off the binding and he lets his wings shiver in response to the touch. 

Despite his tiredness and the comfort offered by the fancy bedding, Hermann can’t sleep, fretting and twitching instead. At least, he does until Newt pulls him against his tattooed chest and places his warm hand on the nape of Hermann’s neck. The gentle pressure calms him and he soon yields to unconsciousness and a pleasant dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sleeping otters interlocking paws](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=IB6qaRcP6aB12M&tbnid=DPQfLkAV03aBuM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFile%3ASea_otters_holding_hands.jpg&ei=6YMDU7WdLIHdqgHG4YGoCg&bvm=bv.61535280,d.aWc&psig=AFQjCNFbA71RRbZNbFs7s0j5rh2-L5OZPA&ust=1392825694414359) is one of the cutest behaviors in all of nature.
> 
> [ _Gattaca_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gattaca) is a sci-fi movie set in a future where genetic testing is a regular part of life and one’s genetic profile as sequenced plays a large part in one’s life. A key scene has one character locating shed hair on a workplace keyboard and having its DNA extracted and sequenced to test the identity of another character.
> 
> Feel free to ask any questions or make any suggestions you have in the comments or message me at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com). The Ask on Tumblr has been eating messages lately, so use the Submit option to make sure I receive it.
> 
> I’m also looking for scenes and incidents in this world you’d like to see illustrated. You can suggest something that’s already happened in this fic or in any of the side fics or something that hasn’t been written but you think would make a great image. Let me know what you’d like in the comments or at my Tumblr. These images are partly my gifts to y'all, so give me your wishlist!


	16. Room service, vanilla, brothers, and boar bristle brushes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This [adorable art by glassvines](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com/post/76575032990/athene-noctua-broke-into-the-top-20-of-most) was commissioned to illustrate this chapter. Enjoy!

_Am I dead_? Newt wonders. _This is way too nice to be any room I’d ever get to sleep in_. _I’m waking up under my_ … _uh_ … _boyfriend’s_ ( _Is that the word I should be using_? _It’s not like we’ve ever talked about it_ … .) _wings_. _I’m moving to a private island in two weeks_.

 _Yeah_ … _I probably fried my brain and this is some weird coma dream_.

Hermann shifts next to him and sighs in his sleep, breath tickling Newt’s chest, while his feathers whisper against each other.

A smile creeps across Newt’s face. _Whether it’s a dream or the afterlife or reality_ , _I’ll take it_ , he decides.

 _Wait_. _If this was a dream or heaven_ , _I wouldn’t be sitting in front of the UN tomorrow trying to make excuses for beating the Kaiju_. _And Hermann and Hansen wouldn’t insist I wear an actual jacket_. _So_ , _yeah_ , _this is probably my life now_.

 _Awesome_.

He relaxes into the closeness of another body and daydreams about island life and, you know, there actually being a future worth looking forward to, until Hermann stirs. Newt nearly melts as the other man smiles sleepily at him. He grins back.

"You know what I just realized?" Newt asks gleefully. Hermann manages to quirk an eyebrow as he fights his way to full wakefulness. "We’re in a five-star hotel and have an expense account. _We’re totally ordering room service_!" he crows triumphantly, launching himself out of bed toward the phone. With a sigh, Hermann lets his head drop back into the pillow.

The pair arrive at the Jaeger team’s rehearsal for the next day’s hearings a few minutes late and mid-bicker. Marshal Hansen adopts an unimpressed look which wouldn’t look out of place on his predecessor. As they practice their presentations and take turns fielding likely questions, Hermann nudges Newt’s ankle under the table when something about Newt’s answer displeases him. By the end of the session, Newt responds to each touch with a kick of his own. "What the hell is up with you bruising my ankle in there?" Newt growls.

"I was simply trying to help both you and our cause," Hermann responds. "You were rambling or about to reveal classified information and neither will produce a positive result tomorrow."

"Oh, come on. I was keeping it lively. Someone has to keep the suits on their toes," Newt replies with a wild grin.

Hermann’s lips thin and the muscles of his jaw tighten. "You don’t reveal classified information on a whim!"

"It shouldn’t _be_ classified! People should know what happened!"

"That’s not the way the world works! Some secrets need to be kept." Hermann glares and his grip on the handle of his cane goes white-knuckled.

"Because you have a secret doesn’t mean everyone should have them."

"Secrets, when created for a good reason, should be kept."

"Who’s going to decide what makes a ‘good reason’? You?" Newt asks, making a frustrated gesture.

"If it is the PPDC’s secret, it’s their choice. If it is my secret, it is my choice," Hermann declares with finality.

"But … ," Newt begins.

"‘ _But_ ’ _nothing_ , Newton," Hermann interrupts sharply. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going for a walk. _Alone_." Hermann spins on his heel and stalks away.

"Hey! Wait!" Newt shouts as he prepares to run after Hermann, but Tendo grabs him by the elbow.

When Tendo finally releases him ten minutes later, Newt’s moved beyond furious and into volcanic rage. "Stupid busybody techs … ," he mumbles. He harbors no illusions about Tendo’s goals. The man wanted to help Hermann escape. Newt tries calling Hermann’s phone, but the call goes straight to voicemail. On the off chance it will be better received he sends a text, too. "Where r u?" he types then jogs back to their room. No Hermann. He’s gone and taken his coat.

 _Well_ , _I found him in the Shatterdome by chance_ , Newt thinks, _maybe it will work again_.

A sunny afternoon fades into a gray, rainy evening as Newt strolls the nearly empty paths of the city’s botanical garden after four hours of directionless wandering. The precipitation plasters his hair to his scalp and he’s long since given up on clearing his glasses. Hoping to dry off at least a little bit before starting his walk back to the hotel, Newt ducks into the glass-enclosed Winter Garden and the near-tropical heat slaps him in the face. He immediately squirms out of his coat.

Despite the warmth, the building appears deserted. From a distant corner, Newt hears a cell phone chime and moves toward the sound on autopilot. As he draws closer, he recognizes Hermann’s angular form resting on a bench near the vanilla vines.

"This spot taken?" Newt asks quietly as he steps in front of the seat. Hermann doesn’t look up from the text message he’s composing, but inclines his head in permission. Newt sits and waits, tapping one foot to the rhythm in his head.

Hermann looks up and catches Newt’s eyes. "Do you understand why I was upset with your comments this morning?" he asks.

"Yeah. I think so. Sometimes secrets mean life or death or happiness or sadness," Newt answers quietly. "I’ll try to behave."

The other man nods in acknowledgement and thanks, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. They watch each other for a long moment without moving.

Hermann’s phone beeps, breaking their trance. He checks it and his smile grows wider. "It seems both of my brothers are in town. They invite us to join them for dinner."

"Please tell me it’s someplace casual," Newt pleads. "Dressing up tomorrow will be enough of a pain."

"Your current attire will be appropriate."

"Thank god."

Newt isn’t sure what to expect from Hermann’s brothers. All he knows is that the older one is a doctor and the younger one is in law school. What he sees at the restaurant waving himself and Hermann over to a table is broad-shouldered blonde in a neat button-up shirt and a brunette with sharp features in a well-worn sweater. Both smile widely at the sight of them and jump up from their seats to hug Hermann and shake Newt’s hand. Bastien—the younger, dark-haired one—and Hermann clearly share a gene pool, but their only similarity to Dietrich are similar pairs of warm brown eyes. Bastien proves to be talkative and expansive, with an easy laugh. Dietrich is more reserved, with something like Hermann’s dry wit and a calming aura which must work wonders with his patients. Both speak English with German accents, though Bastien’s has a bit of a London lilt.

The meal is pleasant, even if Newt gets the feeling that Bastien is subtly interrogating him. Then he learns the guy is a law student, so it sort of makes sense. It’s clear to Newt he’s very protective of his older brother.

Newt likes both of them and the feeling is mutual, as far as Newt can tell.

He wonders what Hermann has told them about their … relationship.

After the meal the quartet stroll the three blocks to Dietrich and his family’s flat. Dietrich’s two daughters greet Hermann with running-start hugs that nearly topple him. Newt braces him with a hand against his back. The girls haven’t seen their uncle in the flesh before, only over skype, and quickly tow him into the living room to question him and show off their latest accomplishments. Bastien and Dietrich’s wife Sabine follow the little parade grinning from ear to ear.

Dietrich pulls Newt aside. "I want you to see something," he says. He leads Newt down a hallway to his home office. There, unlocks a drawer of his desk, removes a small stack of what look like journals, and places them on the surface. "These are what’s left of my mother’s research notes."

"Hermann said … ."

"I’ve never told him about these. I don’t want him to see what she thought of him. He’s already been hurt badly enough." He gestures to the pile. "My father doesn’t know, either. Take one, Newt. They’re all essentially the same. I found them when we sold the Berlin house and hid them. She watched him. Cataloged his every change, every development, every act like he was a lab rat."

Newt looks up from flipping and skimming pages. "This is awful. Did she ever think of him as a kid? As her kid?"

"I’m not sure. She barely thought of the rest of us as children. We were a responsibility, yes, but, after the first month or so, nothing more. Father is actually the better parent. At least he treats us as people and wants, in his own awful way, the best for us. Hermann, though … . The sight of Hermann makes him angry. Hermann is … a symbol of everything that went wrong in his marriage and his life. Father seems to have decided it better to focus his frustration on one child rather than spread it across all of us."

"How-how can parents act like that? To their own _kids_?"

"They probably shouldn’t have been parents. None of us should be here. We learned early that we needed to take care of each other. We always have."

"That’s why you’re a doctor."

"To take care of us, yes. It’s what I needed to be ever since Hermann fell. That’s what older brothers do. We take care of our brothers and sisters." He shrugs, a gesture nearly identical to his brother’s. "Someone needed to hold him together until he won the war. Here, take this." He hands Newt a non-descript flash drive. "I scanned all of my mother’s journals and my own records. If you’re going take care of him, you should have all of it. His medical history for the last sixteen years and his first eight is on that drive."

"Uh … thanks." Newt pauses. "You trust me, but you don’t know me." "I trust you because Hermann trusts you. He doesn’t trust often and rarely makes a mistake." Newt switches back and forth between being confused and being flattered. He rubs the back of his neck. "Is there anything about his health I need to know right away?" he asks.

"You know about his bones, yes?"

"Yeah, I’ve already had to set one," Newt says and shivers at the memory.

"His wing?" Newt nods.

"He can’t seem to protect them." Dietrich sighs. "The other pressing matter is his heart. The muscle is thickening because the extra work of supplying blood to his wing muscles and bones is stressing it. It’s probably only his underweight keeping him from an arrhythmia and other problems already. His heart will likely fail someday."

"He knows?"

"He does. He knows to watch his blood pressure and not work himself too hard. Of course, that doesn’t mean he actually does so," Dietrich shakes his head sadly. "There is one other thing. It shouldn’t be an issue with you in his life, but you should know." He locks eyes with Newt. "Hermann has tried to kill himself before."

Sometimes Newt hates sharing Hermann's memories. This time one surges up as he glances at his inked wrists. He feels the cold nip of the razor against bony arms that were never his, damp grass under his back, smells old pennies and earth, and follows the pull a peaceful sleepiness. Dietrich’s voice, much younger, asking questions, keeping him awake, bandaging his forearms. Newt’s stomach lurches as the gray images fade. "When … ?" he asks.

"He was sixteen and back from university for the first time. He and Father argued. I don’t remember what about; They argued so often. Maybe it was about that boy. Karla and I separated them and tried to keep an eye on Hermann, but he slipped out to the garden when we turned our backs. He almost died. Karla had the car keys in her hand when he finally stopped bleeding. We were going to risk exposing him to save his life. Father would have disowned all three of us on the spot."

"Where _was_ your dad while this was happening?" Dietrich shrugs again. "I don’t know. Probably his office. We didn’t want to tell him because he doesn’t think clearly when he’s angry. We were terrified that he’d do something which would guarantee Hermann died."

"Jesus. How are the four of you still sane?"

"We’re remarkably stubborn," Dietrich says with a wry smile. "We had each other and got out of the family home as quickly as we could, too. Though I do wish we lived closer together. I want to be able to keep an eye on Hermann."

"I’ll watch him for you," Newt promises. "The dude needs someone handy to make sure he takes care of himself."

"He always has, but he’ll never ask." Dietrich pauses. "My brother is the most stubborn man I’ve ever met."

Newt laughs. "Same here."

Dietrich smiles warmly even as his eyes take on a calculating light. "Now I’m afraid I must do my duty as an older brother and thoroughly intimidate you." 

"Bring it, dude. I’ve faced down kaiju so I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you’ve got." Newt leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. 

It takes some coaxing, but the adults’ combined efforts finally convince the girls to relinquish their hold on their uncle. Newt studies Hermann’s expression on the taxi ride back to their accommodations. The man looks brighter and more relaxed than at any point since they’d left Hong Kong. _He really loves kids_ , _doesn’t he_? _I’ve never seen something so guaranteed to make him happy_. _Good thing we’ve got a spawnling coming with us to New Zealand_ , Newt thinks. 

By the time they reach the hotel, however, Hermann slips back into tension and anxiety, while Newt’s worries—mostly about Hermann’s health—recede. He looks forward to tomorrow’s opportunity to rock a global stage. Hermann, though, idly rubs his sternum through his layers, a nervous gesture Newt first noticed years before that’s taken on a new shade of meaning since the Drift. 

 _He’s worrying about being found out_. _I need to get him to relax or he’s going to be up all night_. Newt thinks about possible methods for them to unwind before turning in for the evening. It hits him as Hermann dresses for bed, freeing his wings in the process. 

"Don’t get too comfy," he orders Hermann, who starts to argue, but Newt ducks into the bathroom before he gets too far. Newt unhooks the shower curtain liner, balls it up, and returns to the main part of the room. He spreads it out on the floor and deposits the room’s hard-backed chair in its center. He retrieves his hairbrush from the bathroom. 

"Take a seat," he prompts, pulling Hermann to his feet and herding him to the chair. As Hermann sits he notices something odd. 

"Are you wearing my slippers?" he asks. 

"Yes. I forgot mine." 

"You forgot your slippers? _You_. _Forgot_. _Something_? You? Mister Organized?" 

"Yes, Newton. I’ve already said as much." 

"Oh my god. Whatever. This is gonna be great," he says gleefully. 

"What, exactly, are you planning, Newton?" Hermann asks warily. 

"I’m going to help you preen." 

"You’re what?" Hermann asks from under a skeptical eyebrow. 

"I’m going to use this brush on your wings, to groom them. It’s boar bristle. Good for providing shine." Hermann snorts. "Hey! Don’t laugh at me because I know how to enhance what nature gave me." 

"Is _that_ what you call all of the work you put into making your hair appear as though you have recently gotten out of bed?" 

Newt braces his hands on his hips. "At least I’m obeying the style rules for the right century." 

"Those have to be the only rules you see fit to obey, then." 

"They’re the only ones worth following," he replies. "Anyway, I’ve seen videos where people groom their pet birds with toothbrushes. It’s supposed to feel good and help remove excess dust and damaged feathers. I thought something bigger might work on you. And, you know, feel nice. Or relaxing. Or something. The curtain’s to catch any feathers you lose. Just let me do this, dude. Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop if I see it messing you up, too." 

Hermann grumbles but allows Newt to step behind him. Newt raises the brush, presses it firmly against the scapulars on Hermann’s right side, and strokes downward. Hermann gasps. 

Newt jerks the brush away and freezes. "Did I hurt you?" 

"N-no. That was surprisingly pleasant. Again, please." 

Newt grins and repeats the motion, a little more slowly, a little more forcefully. Hermann arches his back, pushing his wing against the brush. 

"Harder, please, Newton," he says, his voice nearly a purr. Newt grins and complies. 

Newt works his way along the leading edge of each wing, then along each set of coverts, secondaries, and primaries. Hermann quivers and sighs contentedly when the brush passes over certain parts of his wings. Noting these sites, Newt makes certain he brushes each several times. At the same time, he carefully avoids the down between Hermann's wings, remember how the man dislikes it being touched.

A fair-sized pile of feathers with shredded vanes or broken shafts slip free from Hermann’s wings as Newt works. Newt bites his tongue against an urge to ask how Hermann does this on his own. The number of damaged feathers calls into question Hermann’s ability to properly groom himself. _He really needs help to stay healthy_ , Newt thinks, _even in ways I take for granted_. _This is like I couldn’t wash and brush my hair by myself_. 

Hermann collapses on the bed afterward, nearly boneless in relaxation. _Oh yeah_ , _we’re going to have to do this more often_ , Newt says to himself. 

Newt gathers and adds the fallen feathers to the bag in his suitcase they’ve designated to collect them. _Maybe he won’t notice if I keep this batch_ , he thinks with a mischievous smile. 

Still grinning, Newt turns off the lights and tucks himself next to an already sleeping Hermann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, [the Geneva botanical garden really does have a glassed-in Winter Garden full of tropical plants](http://www.ville-ge.ch/cjb/accueil_jar_hiv_en.php). Since I can’t find any pictures of the interior for some reason, I’m totally guessing about the benches.
> 
> I’m almost sorry about the mountain of OCs I’m creating in this universe. Most of them are pure filler, I think. But I said that about Marshal Xiong after she showed up the first time and she’s turning into quite the bad penny.
> 
> The hairbrush scene is actually one of the first things I wrote for this ‘verse. It’s only taken about _ninety_ pages of content to find it a proper home.
> 
> The boys are lucky they fly private/military jets for reasons other than the full-body scanners. In a lot of places possession of raptor (including owl) feathers has legal limits. They can’t be plucked or otherwise harvested. You may only collect a limited number of those naturally shed and found in the birds’ natural habitat.
> 
> Feel free to ask any questions or make any suggestions you have in the comments or message me at my [Tumblr](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com). The Ask on Tumblr has been eating messages lately, so use the Submit option to make sure I receive it.
> 
> I’m also still looking for art prompts. I’ve managed to come up with a couple on my own and have commissioned the artists, but I NEED MORE.


	17. Tone deafness, hearings, innuendo, libel, and aggressive pointing

Quiet singing greets Hermann as soon as he wakes. He wishes it wasn’t. Newt’s skill at the piano is considerable but he can’t carry a tune in a washtub. As Hermann proved to himself on one memorably painful occasion soon after their mutual assignment to Hong Kong, the effect of melody on Newt’s voice produces a sound more disturbing than that of fingernails on a chalkboard. Hermann groans and pulls one of the half-dozen pillows on the bed over his head.

"You’re awake!" Newt sings. Hermann responds by clamping the pillow more tightly over his ears. "You’re not getting away with that this morning. We’ve got a global stage to rock."

"I’m not leaving this bed until you promise to stop singing," Hermann grumbles. "You have absolutely no business trying to sing, _ever_ , let alone at this hour."

You wound me, Hermann," Newt says with feigned indignation as he sits on the bedside table and begins to gently stroke Hermann’s wings. The winged man sighs contentedly as the muscles in his back and shoulders relax when Newt kneads his fingers into the sensitive spots under his feathers. "That better?" Newt asks. Hermann hums affirmatively.

"I’ve already got the order in with room service. Go get cleaned up. We need to look extra gorgeous today for our big TV moment." Hermann grumbles half-heartedly and pries himself from the mattress.

As he goes about his morning routine, doing his level best to ignore Newt’s renewed vocal exercises, he mentally reviews the day’s agenda, his presentation, and answers to the most likely questions he will face. The volume of material leaves Hermann feeling grateful for his excellent memory. He is much less thankful for the cowlick at the back of his head which absolutely refuses to behave.

He finally gives up and leaves the mirror to accept Newt’s help with his wing binding. Over the weeks together, Hermann has come to savor these few moments of gentle contact and looks forward to them. _How unusual to look forward to touching_ , he muses.

After breakfast they finish dressing in their jackets, ties, and, for Hermann at least, freshly polished shoes. Nothing can convince Newt to give up his boots. Hermann sighs at the sight of the scuffed Doc Martens poking out from beneath Newt’s sharply pressed trousers. _I suppose it’s enough of a miracle he’s not wearing denim_. "Let me do up your tie, Newton," he commands.

"I’m having flashbacks to my dad dressing me for school picture day," he says as Hermann finishes knotting the cloth and Hermann pauses, looking mildly offended. "You know, dude, I’ve seen pictures of your mom. She was, like, tiny. Why are you taller than me?" Newt asks. "Shouldn’t you be her size?"

"I did say she made some ‘tweaks’ to my genome. She adjusted my height potential," Hermann answers. With a smirk, he continues, "She apparently thought I would be freakish enough with extra limbs and didn’t need the added insult of being miniature." He looks down his nose at Newt. Newt tilts his head back until he makes eye contact.

"Are you calling me short?"

"You _are_ short. I seem to remember some of our colleagues referring to you as ‘bite-sized’."

"Well, everyone is ‘bite-sized’ to a kaiju," Newt says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He studies his reflection. "Ugh. I can’t believe I have to wear a jacket. They’re afraid I’m going to roll up my sleeves, aren’t they?" Hermann nods and Newt reappraises himself. "What the hell kind of knot is this?" he asks as he examines his tie.

Hermann steps back to admire his handiwork. "Eldredge," he answers.

"You did the same thing to yours," Newt says suspiciously.

"Ah, yes. I thought perhaps we should match in a subtle visual demonstration of K-Science solidarity," Hermann says, a tiny blush lighting up the back of his neck.

Newt grins. "Okay, that’s fine for today," he replies, "but you’re not turning us into one of those weird couples who dress alike. Should I call us a taxi?"

"Frankly, it’s a lovely day and I’d rather walk," Hermann says. "It’s only a handful of blocks and I think the fresh air will do us good."

Hermann and Newt stroll the short distance from the hotel to the United Nations building side-by-side. Hermann, though, rebuffs Newt’s offer to link arms. The biologist looks disappointed and Hermann decides to do something to make up for it later.

While they wait in the anteroom with Tendo, Raleigh, Mako, and Herc to be called into the assembly chamber, Raleigh offers everyone a hard candy from his pocket. The man seems to have an endless supply of them. Hermann selects a lemon-flavored one, his favorite. Raleigh gives him a little smile and pops a lime one into his own mouth.

Hermann hopes to spend more time with the American Ranger before they go their separate ways in a few weeks. Maybe it is the way the younger man dealt with Newt’s fanboy behavior the first time the two met—which is to say more politely and less physically threatening than usual among Jaeger pilots—reminds him of Raleigh's kindness in Anchorage years earlier, but he wants to invite him for tea and chess.

"Right, people," Herc says. "Everyone stay on topic, stick to the areas we practiced yesterday. If you get in trouble, look to the person next to you for help. And, Newt, don’t interrupt people and don’t say anything off limits. Got it?" His gaze at the biologist is laden with unspoken threats.

"Why are you picking on me?" Newt whines.

Tendo responds first. "Because you’re the one who can’t control himself, brother." Newt sputters with wounded pride while Hermann gives him an ‘I told you so’ look.

There’s a polite knock on the door. "That’s our cue," Herc says as he rolls his shoulders. "Good luck, everyone, and remember we have each other’s backs."

The president of the Security Council, the British representative, greets them formally as they take their seats. Herc sits closest to the panel of questioners; Newt is the farthest away, much to Hermann’s relief.

The preamble wanders its way through meaningless platitudes and obvious attempts by the Council members to excuse their withdrawal of support from the organization and plan that finally made the world safe from the Kaiju. Hermann successfully avoids rolling his eyes or grimacing. Newt does not. Hermann battles an urge to fold an origami model out of the notepaper in front of him for Newt to play with, but settles for kicking him under the table. Finally, the pointless speechmaking winds down.

"Mister Hansen, while we appreciate what you and your men," the president begins the questioning and Raleigh and Hermann’s hands simultaneously tighten on the edge of the table, "have done to advance the safety of the people of the world, this body believes there are questions about your operations you must answer. Let us begin, gentlemen." Raleigh clears his throat loudly. "And Miss Mori. Mister Hansen, if you would, provide a brief overview of the actions your organization took on the fourth and fifth of January this year, please."

Herc takes a deep breath and begins. "Gentlemen and ladies, thank you for giving us this chance to explain to the world how we closed the Breach, temporarily ending Kaiju attacks, and what we have to do in the future." He sips his water and Hermann sees him fight an urge to tug at his tightly buttoned collar.

"On the evening of January 4," he continues, "two Category 4 Kaiju, codenamed ‘Leatherback’ and ‘Otachi’, the largest recorded to that point, approached Hong Kong and were challenged in Victoria Harbour by Rangers Sasha and Aleksis Kaidanovsky in the Jaeger _Cherno Alpha_ and Cheung, Jin, and Hu Wei Tang in _Crimson Typhoon_. My son Chuck and I waited at the shoreline in _Striker Eureka_ to provide backup, if needed, to the Kaidanovskys and Weis. Rangers Raleigh Becket and Mako Mori and _Gipsy Danger_ were held in reserve at the Shatterdome."

"Excuse me," interrupts the U.S. representative, "but, rather than risking the loss of so many of your Jaegers before your planned operation at the Breach, why did you not request the Chinese air force deal with the kaiju? Would that not have been the wiser choice?" The Chinese member glares at the man from farther down the table and Hermann marks him down as an ally. He also suspects the representative from Russia will be sympathetic. Both nations had long been the staunchest supporters of the Jaeger program.

"Marshal Pentecost felt—and the other pilots and I agreed—we could not allow the use of nuclear weapons, the only weapons besides Jaegers which can stop kaiju, in or near Hong Kong while Jaegers were available. We alerted the Chinese military of our deployment and did our jobs," Herc declares.

With no follow-up questions forthcoming, Herc picks up the thread. "Moving on, then. The kaiju overpowered and killed the Weis and Kaidanovskys and destroyed their Jaegers. Both teams fought until their final moments." Herc allows several beats of silence to pass. "Chuck and I then engaged Otachi, but our Jaeger was disabled by an electromagnetic pulse created by Leatherback. The EMP also took out communications in LOCCENT and a large section of Hong Kong."

"I must interrupt you here, Mister Hansen." The U.S. delegate, Moore, again. "How were these kaiju able to so quickly overwhelm and incapacitate three of the most successful Jaegers?" Hermann tries to recall what he knows of the man, searching for possible motivations (beside self-interest) behind his immediate challenges. He finds nothing of use and resolves to watch the man carefully the rest of the day and dig into his background once back at the hotel.

"As Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb found later on, Otachi and Leatherback were built by their masters specifically to destroy those particular Jaegers," Herc answers.

Moore feigns surprise. The Jaeger team sent him this information in advance. He has no excuse for ignorance. "Then why was Gipsy Danger successful?"

"The Masters were unaware _Gipsy_ had been repaired and weren’t ready for her. They also had no idea what Rangers Becket and Mori are capable of," Herc says with a smirk he makes no effort to suppress.

"Now," Moore smarms, "there are expert opinions being voiced that the Kaiju ‘Masters’ learned of the Jaegers’ abilities from someone within your organization. How do you respond?"

Beside Hermann, Newt pales. Hermann squeezes Newt’s thigh under the table and Newt looks up at him, grateful and smiling weakly.

"There is absolutely _no_ evidence of _any_ cooperation between _any_ member of the Jaeger program and the Kaiju masters," Herc declares with finality.

"I see," Moore says, clearly indicating he doesn’t believe Herc at all. "We may discuss this issue further later. For now, please continue."

"After the Kaidanovskys and Weis were killed and _Striker_ frozen, Rangers Becket and Mori were sent out and killed both kaiju. _Striker_ and _Gipsy_ were recovered and repaired. I was injured in the fight," he says, gesturing to his right arm with his chin, "and Marshal Pentecost removed me from the active-duty roster. He assigned me overall command of our operation at the Breach."

"Excuse me, Mister Hansen," breaks in the French delegate, "but why would Mister Pentecost give you, a _pilot_ , command rather than passing the authority to another member of his command staff?"

Herc bristles at the man’s casual dismissal of Jaeger pilots. "Marshal Pentecost felt I was the best choice. I was thoroughly briefed on the plan and fully aware of the capabilities of the remaining pilots and Jaegers. With respect, no other staff member had direct combat or command experience. I have both, from both my time as a Ranger and as an officer of the RAAF."

A considerable period of time passes while Herc details the events of the Battle of the Breach and the panel plies Raleigh, Mako, Herc, and Tendo with questions about the operation of Jaegers and the execution of the plan. Hermann listens with half an ear, occasionally jotting down a reminder to address one point or another brought up by the panel. Finally, the time for the K-Science portion of the presentation arrives.

"While the Jaegers were flown to the drop point in Challenger Deep and then walked across the seafloor to the Breach, Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb worked to improve our plan for the final assault on the Breach," Herc says.

"Mister Gottlieb … ," the Council president begins.

" _Doctor_ Gottlieb," Newt interjects and Hermann’s mouth twitches into a smile.

"Doctor Gottlieb, why was it necessary to employ nuclear weapons to close the Breach? Certainly there must have been a less dangerous method."

"Only a nuclear bomb could deliver the force required to cause a collapse of the Breach while being deployed quickly by a Jaeger. I must also remind you that the device carried by _Striker Eureka_ and detonated at the bottom of Challenger Deep was a comparatively small bomb. May I also ask you to recall the first three kaiju to attack each required multiple warheads to kill and each individual bomb used was larger than that in our operation," Hermann replies confidently.

"What about the explosion of _Gipsy Danger_ ’s nuclear reactor? That must have been more power and released more radiation than the actual bomb?"

"No radioactive emissions from the Jaeger’s reactor reached Earth as the detonation occurred well inside the Anteverse. The Breach collapsed in advance of the shock wave from the explosion, confining all radioactivity to the Anteverse."

Newt interrupts. "The bombs also incinerated the kaiju corpses before they could cause a massive slick of Kaiju Blue, which is so _much_ worse than a little radiation. That stuff lingers for _years_ , while radiation disperses pretty quickly."

"Thank you for your opinion, doctor … ."

"It’s not an opinion. It’s a _fact_."

"Excuse me … ."

"The fishing grounds where we left those first kaiju to rot _still_ haven’t recovered. The ecosystems are trashed … ."

Moore speaks up. "I should inform the panel and those following along that Doctor Geiszler may have a conflict of interest when it comes to portraying the seriousness of environmental damage from Kaiju Blue. He has recently been marketing his knowledge of the phenomenon to governments looking to begin environmental remediation."

"That has nothing … ," Newt stammers.

"Pardon me, sir," Hermann breaks in smoothly, "what you say about Doctor Geiszler’s potential future employment—and remind me to inquire later how you found out about what I’m sure are confidential negotiations, if they are indeed taking place—does not render his assessment of the comparative impact of radiation and Kaiju Blue contamination inaccurate. If you will kindly provide me with your email address, I will happily forward you my annotated bibliography on the subject, which contains summaries of over one-hundred-and-fifty studies investigating the phenomenon, a number of which were prepared at the request of and with funding from this body’s parent organization."

"The-there’s no need for that, Doctor. Let’s move on to the next question," Moore sputters. Newt looks at Hermann with admiration. Hermann gives a tiny shrug in response.

"Why did this assault on the Breach succeed, while earlier similar attempts failed, with the bombs exploding harmlessly—to the Kaiju at least—on the seafloor?"

"Doctor Geiszler and I discovered that a ‘key’ of sorts was necessary to open passage through the Breach. That key was Kaiju DNA. Therefore, we advised the Jaeger pilots to grapple one of the kaiju and fall with it into the Breach. The method worked as we predicted," Hermann responds.

"Doctor Geiszler, I’m curious as to how were you able to determine this method was necessary to enter the Breach?" Moore asks, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Hermann’s hackles rise. Whatever is coming cannot be good.

"We—Doctor Gottlieb and I—used technology I developed to tap into the Kaiju intelligence network," Newt answers.

"What sort of technology?" Moore prompts.

Newt chews his lip. "That’s classified."

"Your organization has no authority to ‘classify’ data."

"Sorry, sir, your question relates to sensitive operational data and cannot be disclosed in a forum like this," Herc interrupts.

Moore’s face breaks out in a nasty grin. "Let’s try this from a different angle. Reliable sources have informed me the ‘technology’ mentioned by Doctor Geiszler is most likely a type of neural bridge like those used by Jaeger pilots. These devices automatically and _by design_ create a two-way flow of information. If this is indeed what the doctors used to ‘tap into the Kaiju intelligence network,’ they also, necessarily, would have provided the Kaiju and their ‘masters’ with information about human materiel and plans. Such information could explain the amount of damage caused by the kaiju in Hong Kong and the need to destroy the final two Jaegers in Challenger Deep." He pauses to allow his accusations to sink in before continuing. "So, they could be traitors, as well as heroes."

The knuckles of Herc’s clenched fists turn as white as Newt’s face. Hermann swallows an urge to lunge across the table and intervening space and strangle the man with his bare hands. From the corner of his eye, he sees Tendo, Raleigh, Mako, and Herc calculating the odds of successfully completing the same action.

 _Where is he getting this information_? _Why is he so set on destroying the Jaeger program’s—and especially Newton’s—reputation and prospects for the future_? Hermann places a calming hand on Newt’s leg and focuses momentarily on transmitting love and confidence through the touch. It works. Newt’s breathing slows and steadies and some color returns to his face. He squeezes Hermann’s hand.

"With respect, Mister Moore," Herc growls dangerously, "your sources are talking out their asses. I said it before: There is absolutely _no_ evidence of _any_ cooperation between _any_ member of the Jaeger program and the Kaiju masters."

Before Moore can gather himself for a response, Hermann enters the fray. "May I also remind you, Mister Moore, such an accusation of treason aimed against Doctor Geiszler and myself may be libelous under applicable law unless you are able to produce conclusive proof admissible in a court of law of your statement’s truth."

The man recoils slightly in surprise, but recovers quickly. Hermann stares at him levelly, expression neutral.

"My apologies, doctors, for my colleague," the British delegate says. "You must understand the depth of feelings raised by this subject."

"Of course, sir," Hermann replies. "However, feelings, no matter how deeply held, are not a substitute for fact, especially in such a respected forum as this."

"Yes. Ahem. Very well," the representative says. "I see our time is beginning to run short, so we must move along." He glances down at his notes. "Mister Hansen, are you certain your actions will prevent any further kaiju attacks?"

"I’d like Doctor Gottlieb to address your question, sir. He can explain the situation more clearly than I can," Herc says.

Hermann says, "There is no way to be absolutely certain the Kaiju cannot return. We lack knowledge of how the Masters created the Breach and whether they can create another one. We also have no information on how much damage the explosion of _Gipsy Danger_ ’s nuclear reactor caused in the Anteverse. We know only that it rendered whatever force held the Breach open inoperative and the Breach has not yet reopened. Beyond that, everything is base speculation."

As they’d rehearsed, Herc picks up seamlessly. "Which is why we urge the United Nations to maintain monitoring systems around the Pacific, reopen Shatterdomes, and construct Mark VI Jaegers—Jaegers are the most effective weapon against kaiju, as we’ve demonstrated—to prepare for a possible second war."

"Yes, Mister Hansen, we’ve received your recommendations and will treat them with all due consideration as we set our course for the future," the Council president says. He glances at his watch. "I see we have consumed all of our time. Thank you for your time today, gentlemen." All five of the Jaeger program men turn in unison and level stares at the man, who swallows audibly. "And Miss Mori. You and your crews have all of our gratitude. Thank you for your service."

The Council members’ polite applause quickly drowns in cheers and stomps from the gallery in the back of the room. Newt turns and waves cheerfully to the crowd, who respond with whistles and increased volume. Hermann rolls his eyes, but allows his partner his rockstar moment.

Eventually they file out of the Council chamber into the anteroom. There, they catch their breath and try to relax their long-tensed muscles. The three (ex-) pilots chat quietly. Newt ducks out to find a restroom.

Tendo and Hermann excuse themselves and begin a slow amble down the adjoining hall toward the exit. Before they travel far, Hermann halts them to wait for Newt to catch up.

"You really schooled those guys in there. Where’d you learn to do that?" Tendo asks.

"My father, actually, taught me the basics," Hermann replies. "I used to help him prepare for presentations before government bodies and funding agencies and would watch the proceedings from the gallery or on recordings. We performed often enough for me to document patterns of beneficial and detrimental behavior. I applied that knowledge today."

"Well, great job. I think you saved our butts in there. Especially Newt’s."

"That is rapidly becoming a habit," Hermann sighs.

"He’s a lucky guy." Tendo pauses and peers at something in the distance. "Your dad’s coming up behind you. Get ready," he warns in his barely competent Cantonese. Hermann nods and squares his shoulders as he turns to face Lars Gottlieb.

"Hermann, it is good to see you again and well," Lars says smoothly in German.

Hermann’s eyes narrow. _So you don’t want my colleague to know what you’re saying_ , _do you_? he thinks. _Two can play at languages_. "Father. To what do I owe the honor of your attention?" Hermann asks in clipped English, which his father properly interprets as a slight.

Lars yields as Tendo steps closer to Hermann. He replies in English, "You handled yourself well in front of the Council."

"Thank you. I hope you fare as well tomorrow."

Gottlieb frowns. "What are you plans now that the PPDC is being disbanded, Hermann? Do you plan to return to Europe or maybe the United States to be near family again?" he asks. Hermann hears his father’s unvoiced ‘as you should’ and ignores it.

"As much as I would love to be closer to my siblings and their children, I feel drawn to remain on the Pacific coast," Hermann answers, speaking carefully. "You needn’t worry about my being alone wherever I go. My adopted family will be at hand."

Newt’s squeaky shout startles all three men. "Hey!" he yells as he races toward them along the hall pointing aggressively at the elder Gottlieb. " _You_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the dearth of fluff this time around. This is in here to try and build the world out a little bit more, you know, give you a little taste of how the Jaeger veterans are viewed and what the world political situation is like.
> 
> Hermann inflicts another [fancy tie knot](http://agreeordie.com/features/fashion/616-how-to-tie-a-necktie-eldredge-knot) on Newt.


	18. Threats, circles of hell, ejection, quiet time, and boyfriends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [alienfirst](http://alienfirst.tumblr.com) created some [gorgeous fanart](http://alienfirst.tumblr.com/post/79156711920/i-got-a-couple-things-done-on-my-to-do-list-this) to go with this chapter.

"Hey! _You_!"

 _Oh no_ , Hermann thinks. _Oh dear gods_ , _no_. He scans the hallway half-hoping to see a member of the security staff to head off the now-inevitable confrontation. Beside him, Tendo grins and steps back to allow Newt a clear path to his target. Hermann questions yet again whether Tendo truly is a friend and notices with a sinking heart that Newt’s removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He covers his face with his free hand and tries to mentally prepare for … whatever it is Newt has in mind. Stopping him at this point would be like trying to fight a hurricane.

" _What do you think you’re doing_?" Newt screeches as he draws closer.

"I am talking to my son, Mister … ," Gottlieb huffs in his most offended tone.

" _Doctor_ Newt Geiszler. And I need to talk to you. _Right now_ ," he declares loudly enough that heads up and down the hall swivel in his direction.

Gottlieb puts up his hands to ward off Newt’s advance into his personal space. "Excuse me … ," he begins.

" _No_. You listen to me." Newt jabs a finger into the older man’s chest. He stands close enough to the much taller man that he must tilt his head back to make eye contact. "I don’t really care that you and your pet Wall almost got us all killed. I’ll let the assholes in the next room," he jerks his head toward the Council chamber, "handle that. I _totally_ care that you’ve been an absolute _bastard_ to your kids, _especially_ this one, their entire lives. You are the _worst_ , most awful parent I’ve ever met and one of mine was an _epic_ failure."

"I hardly think it your place … ," Gottlieb growls as he fights his rising temper.

"Oh, shut _up_! I know _exactly_ what you did. Locking them up, threatening them, _hitting_ them, you fucking _coward_! _Refusing medical care_! There’s a special circle in hell for monsters like you! You’re fucking _lucky_ you’re not in _prison_ for neglect and abuse! And what about destroying medical records? How’s he supposed to get proper care if no one knows his history, huh? Or have you spent thirty-five years hoping he’ll drop dead?" Newt’s face has turned red with rage and the tendons in his neck stand out against his skin.

Hermann is red for a completely different reason, but makes no attempt to halt Newt’s verbal assault. He’s never seen the little biologist so angry before, not even after the announcements that first K-Science and then the entire Jaeger program were to be defunded.

Meanwhile, Lars Gottlieb’s eyes have stretched wide as dinner plates in confusion and he takes a pair of steps back to put space between himself and Newt. Newt simply raises his voice further to fill in the gap.

"I know it all, motherfucker," Newt rants. " _All of it_. _Understand_? And it’s _safe_. Not because I give a shit about you, but because _he_ deserves to be left the fuck alone to live his own life. So if you ever, _ever_ come near him again, I swear I’ll do something to you _he’ll_ regret but _I_ sure as hell won’t."

At that point, a burly security guard decides to intervene. "Pardon me, sirs," he says, "is there a problem?"

"Yes, officer," Gottlieb smugly snarls. "This man is threatening me. I would like him removed from the grounds."

"I see. Sir, if you would come with me … ." The guard clamps an iron grip around Newt’s elbow and tows him toward the exit doors. To Hermann’s surprise and relief, he goes without a fight or further yelling.

"Tendo, if you don’t mind terribly, would you join Newton and make sure he doesn’t do anything else ill-advised?" Hermann asks as he watches Newt shoved—politely but firmly—outside.

Tendo chuckles. "I’ll do my best, but you know how he is."

"Yes. Yes, I do," Hermann sighs.

"Well, that was unexpected," Gottlieb remarks as he brushes invisible dust from his lapels.

Hermann shrugs. "That was Newton Geiszler."

"He seems a most … interesting man." Again, Hermann merely shrugs in response.

"Days with colleagues like him must be exciting, but surely you’ve earned a peaceful retirement, away from events and attention like this, after all you’ve done," Gottlieb says. "You should settle down to a quiet life near family. You would be happiest out of the public eye and with the people who know you best."

"’Know me best’?" Hermann asks incredulously and his wings twitch against their binding as he pulls himself into a stiff, defensive posture. " _Newton_ knows me best of all, probably even better than my brothers now. You wrote me off for lost five years ago and I’ve spent nearly every day since then living and working with that man."

"You told him?"

"Yes. Everything."

"Oh, Hermann," Gottlieb says as his face acquires a sad cast. "With that knowledge, after today’s hearing and his … unfortunate outburst, I fear your colleague may be more of a threat to you than a comfort."

Hermann fixes his father with a suspicious stare. "What do you know?" he asks, a hint of threat in his voice.

"I know no more than you do, but it is clear someone well-placed has targeted your … friend. We may have parted on poor terms, Hermann, but I have no desire to see you brought down for … whatever that man did or by his seeming inability to keep secrets." He says earnestly, "It would be safest for you to cut ties with him. You can stay here, in Geneva, with your brother or come back to New York with me. We can protect you, help you."

Hermann cocks his head and studies his father. "You look at me and you see the mousy boy you could control with a word or a look," he says quietly. "That child died on K-Day, Father, and he’s never coming back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep my friends waiting." Hermann pivots sharply on his heel and marches away from his father to join Newt and Tendo.

Upon rejoining his friends on the plaza in front of the building, Hermann nearly topples over as Newt immediately catches him with a forceful hug. "You okay? The asshole didn’t do anything, did he?" he asks, eyes bright with concern.

"I am completely fine, Newton," Hermann replies and Newt relaxes and releases his embrace. Hermann lets a smile creep into his eyes. "He saved most of his displeasure for you. I recommend you steer clear of him for the foreseeable future."

"My _pleasure_. I think I said enough."

"I’m pretty sure you did, brother. You got yourself thrown out after all," Tendo chuckles.

"It was _totally_ worth it, dude. _Someone_ has to defend Hermann," Newt says with conviction. "And I’m just the guy for the job."

"My hero," Hermann says, rolling his eyes. He considers for a moment, then offers Newt his arm for the walk to the hotel. Newt’s face lights up like Christmas morning as he accepts. Behind him, Tendo mimes gagging himself and Hermann shoots the tech a glare which he laughs off.

Once back in their room, Hermann sheds his layers and releases the bindings confining his wings. He marvels at the wonder in Newt’s eyes as he unfolds his wings. _It’s as though he never grows tired of admiring at them_ , Hermann thinks. _Or perhaps he’s looking at all of me_.

"You absolutely sure you don’t want to join us for victory drinks?" Newt asks. "We don’t have to stay long … ,"

"Kindly pass along my regrets to our colleagues, but I’ll be happier if allowed to rest," Hermann says as he puts on his glasses and settles on his stomach on the bed, propped on his elbows, to read, carefully arranging his wings so as not to block the light.

"Umm," Newt begins nervously, "you’re not going to do anything … uh … _permanent_ while I’m not watching, are you?"

Hermann snaps his glasses off and looks at Newt in confused exasperation. "What on Earth are you talking about?" he asks. "Afraid I’ll sneak off to a tattoo parlor without you?"

"I’m not dreaming that big yet," Newt answers. He takes hold of one of Hermann’s arms and turns it so the thin scar on his wrist is visible. "Look, Dietrich told me about what happened with this."

"That was a very long time ago, Newton," he says quietly.

"I _know_ , dude, but this is suicide we’re talking about!" Newt lets go of Hermann’s hand to make a broad gesture. "I want a lot of things, but a dead boyfriend is _not_ one of them. So I need to know if you’ll be okay if I leave you alone right now. After the thing with your dad and all."

Hermann squints at Newt. "What did you call me?"

"Umm … ‘dude’? I call you that all the time."

Hermann rolls his eyes. "After that."

"‘Boyfriend’?" Newt looks away nervously.

"Is that what I am now?"

"Uh … maybe? Kinda?” Newt stammers. "What else do you call the guy you go on dates with, sleep with, and, you know, move to a private island with?"

"We’ve been on dates?" Hermann sounds surprised.

"Well, what would you call … wait a minute. You’re dragging us off topic. I want to know if you’ll be okay if I leave you alone to go grab a drink with Tendo and the rest of the crew."

"Yes, Newton, I will be alive and whole when you return. I’m inured to arguing with my father now. I wasn’t at sixteen. There were other troubles on my mind at the time, as well. I’m not proud of my decisions and actions that night." He absently traces the scar Newt revealed with a fingertip.

"Good. Well, not _good_ , but you know what I mean."

"Miraculously, I do, Newton." He pauses. "You will, however, need to jog my memory regarding these ‘dates’ we’ve supposedly had when you return."

"Fair enough," Newt says with a grin. "Happy reading!" Hermann waves him out the door with a wing.

With a sigh, Hermann retrieves his phone from the bedside table and connects to a familiar number.

"You told him about the scars!" he scolds as soon as Dietrich answers.

"I only told him that you’d made an attempt and when it happened. It is up to you to share anything further with him. Hermann, he needed to know so he could be on watch," Dietrich replies. "It’s only fair he take care of you the same way you’ve watched him for manic episodes and panic attacks for five years, brother." Hermann grumbles under his breath. "You know I’m right."

"Yes, I do," Hermann answers as he studies his arms and stretches his wings. "What do you think of him?" He asks softly after a few beats of silence.

"We—Karla, Bastien, and I—think you’ve made a good choice. He’ll keep you both on your toes and safe, which is exactly what you need. So relax and enjoy your life, for once." Hermann can hear his brother smile as he goes on, "And, if he hurts you, I will kill him, Karla will get rid of the body, and Bastien will make sure we are acquitted."

"Bastien hasn’t passed the bar yet," Hermann says as he fights a smile.

"By the time it comes to trial, he will have," Dietrich says reasonably. "Also, Father called to tell me Newt threatened him at the UN today." Hermann groans. "I take it he didn’t exaggerate?"

"Unfortunately, he didn’t," Hermann sighs. "On a positive note, it was the most confused and frightened I’ve ever seen the man."

"I wish I had been there." Hermann hears a voice say something unintelligible in the background. "That was Bastien. He says he’ll work on Newt’s case _pro bono_ if it comes to that."

Hermann laughs. "Tell him I’ll be sure to pass along his card."

By the time Newt returns, Hermann reads nearly half of his book. Not that he minds, as quiet time to himself has been in somewhat short supply since 'my' quarters became 'our' quarters. Not that he minds that change, either. Being able to relax alongside another is an pleasure he never thought possible to indulge--at least not for almost two decades. The rather wicked satisfaction of proving his father wrong ("You'll never be able to trust another. You must rely solely on your own strength and resources," he'd said. Often.) only made the last few weeks sweeter.

Newt’s speech is slurred with alcohol and relaxation when he returns. Hermann guides him to the bed and settles himself behind the smaller man. As Hermann presses his fingers into the few remaining tense muscles in Newt's back and shoulders, he savors the warmth of his skin and the soft purring noises he makes.

"You want to go watch those political assholes skewer your dad tomorrow?" Newt asks.

"I believe I had more than enough contact with my father and politicians today to last me for quite a while," Hermann answers quietly, mindful Newt probably has a whanging headache. Alcohol, even in small quantities always causes him some level of distress.

"Not sure you’d be able to stop yourself from strangling somebody, huh?"

"I’m more worried about being able to prevent _you_ from injuring my father. You did publicly threaten him with violence today, if you remember."

"Heh. Yeah. I did, didn’t I?" Newt chuckles and cranks his neck around to watch Hermann’s expression. "Did you see the look on his face?" he crows. "I don’t think I’ve _ever_ scared a big guy that much. Well, except the time I almost exploded part of _Cherno Alpha_ , but he was mostly mad and I didn’t do it on purpose."

Hermann struggles against a smile for second or two before surrendering to the rarest of his facial expressions. Newt blinks at him in surprise. _Probably because he's only seen me smile like this once or twice in all the years we've know each other_ , Hermann realizes.

"I must say that's the most frightened I've ever seen him. Please don’t let your success go to your head, though," Hermann says affectionately as starts to help Newt out of his clothes in preparation for sleep. Newt whines sleepily, but does his best to help.

"Go to sleep, Newton," Hermann whispers and kisses his … boyfriend on the forehead as Newt falls asleep.


	19. Personal shoppers, nicknames, numbers, teammates, and a fashion show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy [this adorable art](http://pickle-plum.tumblr.com/post/81017701851/our-favorite-pacific-rim-science-team-indulges-in) [commissioned from thelilnan](http://thelilnan.tumblr.com/post/75103414724), who also wrote the dialogue.

The way Hermann is wrapped around him _almost_ makes up for Newt’s pounding headache. _Someday_ , he thinks, _I’ll remember what drinking feels like the next morning_. He rubs his forehead trying to ease the throbbing. The motion triggers a half-formed memory. _Did Hermann kiss me last night_? _Or was I already dreaming_? _If that actually did happen, it would be a first_.

Newt knows he doesn’t have all of Hermann’s memories, but he can’t find Hermann planting a kiss on anyone before. Newt’s heart lurches between a trilling with excitement and a gnawing sadness over how alone his … boyfriend spent his life. _I can’t even count how many people I’ve kissed over the years_. _I’m not sure I ever knew some of their names_.

His memory skips along his sexual history before he dozes again—it’s much too warm and comfortable next to Hermann to remain conscious—and slides into a dream of Hermann’s long fingers tangled in his hair and his warm breath on his neck. He sighs in contentment as the fingers against his scalp turn gentle.

"Newton? You need to wake up or you’ll be late to meet Tendo and Bastien for your shopping excursion."

Newt groans. "Oh, man, you ruined a great dream."

Hermann removes his hand to better prop himself up on his elbows. "Oh? What were you dreaming about?" he asks.

Newt opens his mouth to reply and feels the blood rush to his face. "Uh … I can’t remember," he dissembles. "I know it was great, though." Hermann sniffs in a way which implies he doesn’t quite believe Newt’s story and gets up to go through his morning routine.

"Give me your measurements, dude," Newt demands while he waits for Tendo and Bastien to arrive. "We’re shopping for clothes for all of us. I know you’ll never go into a fitting room, so we’ll have to do this the hard way."

" _No_."

" _Yes_. You’re going to be working out of our house. You don’t need to dress to impress anymore. So you’re going to wear comfortable clothes that actually fit you for once. And you’re going to try on **everything** I bring back or I’ll email that picture of you cuddling my Hardship plushie to everyone on base."

Hermann winds up for a response as a knock sounds at the door. Newt opens it and Bastien and Tendo saunter in, already laughing and joking with each other.

"You guys have known each other, what, five minutes? Best friends already?" Newt asks and the pair laugh at him. Newt ignores the reaction and continues, "It’ll just be the three of us. Herms is being no fun and going on some science field trip instead."

Bastien looks at his brother with raised eyebrows. " _ **That’s** what he calls you_?" he asks in German. " _Really, Manny_? _You haven’t bothered to teach him properly yet_?"

" _He’s as easy to train as a cat and I have no intention of trying_ , _Hasi_. _He calls me that to annoy me_."

" _Aww_. _Thirty-five and still having your pigtails pulled_. _How sweet_!"

" _Remember how much it stings when I hit your shins with my cane_?" Hermann growls and scowls.

Bastien laughs and moves to put Newt between himself and his brother.

"I’ll bite. I didn’t understand most of that, but who’s ‘Manny’?"

"He is," Bastien says and points at Hermann, who turns a hurricane-force glare on him. "It’s what our family calls him."

"Oh, _really_. Why haven’t you ever told me that, Manny?"

" _You will pay for this, Bastien_." Bastien laughs until he can’t breathe.

A call from the front desk saves Bastien and signals the arrival of the taxi. Bastien smacks Newt on the back. "Let’s get going, _Wassermolch_ ," he says.

"What did you call me?"

Hermann laughs maniacally as he exits. The other men trail after him, Newt needling Bastien to explain what he’d said.

"Remember that everything needs to coordinate with everything else since he can’t match colors on his own," Tendo says as they wander through a large menswear store. "Doubt he’ll let Newt dress him every morning, either."

Newt blinks in astonishment. "Tendo, how the hell do you know that? I just found out he’s colorblind a couple of weeks ago."

"I’ve known him almost as long as you have. He also didn’t manage to hide from me for four years."

"So he really _was_ trying to avoid me … ." Newt glances at Bastien and a metaphorical light bulb illuminates above his head. "That was _your_ picture he sent me!" he squawks. Bastien raises an eyebrow. "That’s what he did! I _thought_ you looked too familiar! Your asshole brother sent me your picture when I asked for one! Hey, what’s so funny about him lying to me?" Newt asks as Bastien giggles.

"That’s just so _him_ ," Bastien answers through his laughter. "When was this? 2013? He was at the bottom of his friendship-phobia then. He didn’t want anyone at all to get close to him. He really and truly hated himself, worse than ever. He probably didn’t want to disappoint you, but didn’t want you to get too close, either. Of course, he probably didn’t _have_ any pictures of himself, too."

Tendo snorts. "The guy is pretty allergic to cameras and is amazing at dodging them."

"He’s gotten really skilled at hiding himself. He’s practiced it for a very long time now," Bastien says.

"I’ve always wondered about that," Tendo remarks. "I know your family was rough, but what happened to him to make him close himself off? You’re not like that, Bastien."

Newt freezes. _Tendo doesn’t know_ , he realizes. _He doesn’t know about Hermann’s wings_.

Bastien steps in without missing a beat. "My mother and father were extra tough on him because he was both sickly and so intelligent. He took the brunt of the abuse in the family. He and Karla and Dietrich shielded me."

"Yeah, that’s pretty much what he told me. How’d you think he’d look in bright blue?" Tendo asks as he holds up a nearly-Kaiju blue sweater. "Bastien, you’ve got the same color—with the healthy tan Hermann will hopefully pick up soon—we should use you as a stand-in. Think we could get him in a bowtie?"

" _No_!" Newt and Bastien say in unison.

"He’s no fun. We need something simple, practical, and hard-wearing, but still professional-looking." Tendo’s eyes widen in inspiration. "What about Nine style?" he asks, looking to Bastien for input.

Bastien breaks into a goofy grin and laughs. "Perfect! He might even enjoy the joke!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I don’t get it," Newt wheedles.

They ignore Newt and talk around him. "The boots are probably out. Lacing them would suck with his knee, but the rest should work," Tendo says.

"Agreed," Bastien replies. "You find the jumpers, pants, and socks and I’ll find the jacket, a belt, and some appropriate shoes."

"He’ll probably still want a blazer or sportcoat. Newt, why don’t you look for that and anything else you know he’ll need. Here’s his measurements." Bastien pulls a notepad and pencil from a coat pocket and jots down some numbers before tearing out the page and handing it Newt. "I’ll need at least a half-hour to get to the surplus store for the coat and back, so let’s meet in an hour at the coffee bar downstairs. _Go_!" Tendo and Bastien clap and split in opposite directions, leaving an utterly confused Newt frozen in place.

_Ooookay. That was weird._

Even weirder, the two arrive at the coffee shop almost simultaneously, each clutching a large number of purchases. "Let’s test drive this," Tendo says and Bastien takes the bags and ducks into the coffee shop’s bathroom to change, while Tendo and a still-befuddled Newt order drinks. Bastien steps out with a twirl while Tendo and Newt give him a once-over.

"Whoa … ," is all Newt can manage. Bastien looks both dashing and dangerous in black pants, burgundy v-neck sweater, and wide-lapeled leather coat. Newt’s brain nearly shorts out thinking of Hermann in the outfit.

"Yeah, that’ll work," Tendo smirks. "I can tell Newt likes it. You’re drooling, brother." Newt closes his mouth with a snap. "Don’t suppose we’ll be able to convince him to give us a fashion show when we get back … ."

"I doubt that," Bastien says. "You’ll probably have to throw out his old clothes to even get him into any of this."

"Why does he keep those old things anyway? They’re just awful and don’t even fit," Tendo wonders.

"They make him feel safe," Newt answers quietly. "They’re armor." Bastien nods in agreement.

"Huh. It _is_ hard to get an accurate read on him dressed like that," Tendo admits. "You’d never suspect a guy who likes punk and reads science fiction."

"He likes what now?" Newt stutters.

"Punk," Tendo repeats. "Especially the early British stuff. X-Ray Spex, Stiff Little Fingers, Buzzcocks, that sort of thing."

Bastien perks up. "Does he still listen to Joy Division? He came back from Manchester _obsessed_ with them."

"Never mentioned them to me."

"Why don’t I know any of this? How did I not know this?" Newt asks with wide eyes.

"He’s an expert at hiding things about himself," Bastien answers with a shrug.

"Yeah … he really is," Newt says, impressed and saddened at the same time.

Bastien calls, "Hey, Tendo, you’re an Eleven guy, right? ‘Bowties are cool’?" Tendo laughs and nods. "Maybe we should find Newt something to match?"

Bastien’s wicked grin spreads to Tendo as Newt looks from one to the other growing more nervous by the second. "What’re you thinking?" Tendo asks.

"With the glasses? And the hair? Ten. No question."

"Could someone _please_ fill me in? I still have no clue what you’re talking about," Newt whines. In answer, Bastien grabs him by the arm and tows him back into the main body of the store. Before his brain catches up with his feet, Tendo and Bastien stuff him into a fitting room with a pile of clothing: A shirt, a tie, a pinstriped suit, Chuck Taylors, and a long beige coat. Newt slinks out for examination.

Bastien and Tendo look him up and down.

"We’d have to hem these," Tendo says as he cocks his head, " but I can handle that."

"You can sew," Newt says levelly.

"Hem," Tendo corrects. "I buy vintage and my inseam is hard to find. My style doesn’t allow for cuffs, unlike _some_ people’s."

"This is a lot of layers, dudes."

"They’re only for special occasions, my man," Tendo says by way of reassurance.

"You look good, Newt," Bastien adds.

"Sure," Newt says as he picks at the buttons of the jacket. " _Now_ could you tell me why we’re dressed like this?"

" _Doctor Who_ ," Bastien asserts. "I’m the Ninth Doctor."

Tendo indicates himself with a thumb. "I’m Eleven. And you’re Ten."

"You dressed me like a character from a geeky British TV show?" Newt begins contemplating methods to injure his torturers without leaving obvious marks.

"Not ‘geeky’. _Classic_ ," Tendo declares. Bastien snorts at Newt’s thoroughly unimpressed expression. "C’mon, you’ve as good as admitted Hermann’s going to look hot in that outfit … ."

"Well, yeah. But _I_ look like a dork."

"A very stylish dork, you mean," Tendo corrects. "At least acknowledge the coat will be useful when you’re living on a rainy island." Newt gives a non-committal look. "Are we cramping your sense of style, Doctor?"

" _Yes_ ," Newt cries.

"Okay, okay," Tendo says, rolling his eyes. "Let’s go find you what you really want. But you’re getting the coat and the shoes."

Back at Newt and Hermann’s hotel room, the trio drop their mountain of buys and collapse onto chairs and the bed to chatter and wait for Hermann. The man returns about a half an hour later, looking tired but pleased. He jumps a little at the sight of his brother and best friends arranged around the room, a large pile of clothes on the bed and even more in bags on the floor.

"Don’t worry, this isn’t all for you. Only most of it," Tendo says. "We’re going to have a bonfire with your old stuff when we get back to Hong Kong. We need to teach Mako to make s’mores, before we all get to our new home."

"Oh? Where are you moving?" Hermann asks with interest.

Tendo swivels to face Newt. " _You didn’t tell him_? What the hell, Newt!"

"I was getting around to it!" Newt yells and shoots a panicked look at Hermann, whose brows lower threateningly.

Tendo’s mouth twitches into a smile. He sticks out a hand to Hermann. "Doctor Gottlieb?" he says. "I’m your new project logistics and site manager, Tendo Choi. My wife, Alison, who you’ll meet later, will be coordinating transport and overseeing the town airstrip."

"Newton … ," Hermann growls.

"What? You don’t approve?" Newt decides defensiveness is the best … defense.

The accusation catches Hermann flat-footed. "No … but that’s not … ," he stammers.

"Mako and Raleigh are coming, too, to help with the engineering and site maintenance," Tendo interrupts, his smiling growing more feline. "And Felix will be the mascot. Your sister turned us down."

"Karla? What?" Hermann loses control of his English as he becomes even more flustered. " _Newton_ … when were you going to … my sister?"

"She’s the best in the world on non-chemical Kaiju Blue cleanup. She’d be great for our project," Newt says reasonably.

"But she didn’t want to uproot her kids again," Bastien adds.

Hermann snaps his head to face Bastien. " _You_ knew this, too?" Hermann voice sounds simultaneously horrified and angry.

Bastien makes a placating gesture. "Only the bit about Karla. She told Dietrich and I when she called us to discuss Newt."

"You did _what_?" Newt yelps.

"He’s our brother," Bastien says with a shrug. "We had to compare notes and make sure you’re good enough for him." Newt sputters as he tries to reconstruct the conversation based on absolutely no evidence.Hermann’s lips twist into a half-smile when he sees Newt’s confused expression. "Welcome to the family, Newton," he says.

"Newt can fill you in on everything else he’s avoided telling you," Tendo says, "but _I’m_ more interested in what you think of what we dragged in for you."

Hermann studies the clothes the trio lay out for him to inspect. "Whose bright idea was the theme?" he says as he runs a finger along the collar of the leather coat.

"Bastien," says Tendo, pointing.

"Tendo," says Bastien, pointing.

"Them," says Newt, making a warding gesture.

Hermann rolls his eyes. "I appreciate the practicality and the … attention to detail. May I assume the colors are likewise appropriate?"

"Yup," Tendo answers. "I couldn’t find a green one with the center seam, but there’s one in the right color. Newt also grabbed you some totally non-compliant shirts in complementary colors and a black blazer if you’ll be more comfortable layered up."

"We talked it over before you got back and you need to try on at least the basic ensemble before Tendo and I leave you and Newt alone," Bastien says.

"If I must," Hermann sighs. Newt, though, sees the way his eyes light up as he gathers up the sweater (the burgundy one Bastien had tested), the coat, and one of the pairs of pants. After a few minutes, Hermann reappears. He doesn’t flaunt the clothes like his brother had, but slouches out self-consciously.

Tendo immediately turns to Newt. "You’re drooling," he says. Both Hermann and Newt blush to the tips of their ears. "You look real good, Hermann."

"You and Newt both look like rock stars now," Bastien adds. "I always knew this would be a good look on you."

"Now we just have to do something about your hair," Tendo declares.

"Let’s not press our luck, Tendo," Bastien interjects. "We’ve got him dressing more his age. We should probably be happy with that for a little while. Too much change at once might kill him."

"I guess. Newt can sneak up on him with clippers once he’s trapped on that island," Tendo admits.

"Don’t I have a say in this?" Hermann grouses.

" _No_!" the others yell simultaneously.

"You’ve already proven completely unable to dress yourself appropriately. You need to be trained before we can let you try on your own. I’m not letting you set a bad fashion example for Felix," Tendo announces. Hermann smiles crookedly as he settles himself on the edge of the bed near Newt.

"On that note, I think we should take our leave, Tendo," Bastien says. He unfolds himself from his chair and hugs his brother, whispering something in the older man’s ear. Newt takes careful note of where Bastien places his hands, figuring he would know the best way to embrace Hermann without pinching his wings. Tendo waves and promises to see Newt and Hermann the next morning.

"You really like the clothes, don’t you?" Newt asks and Hermann nods in response.

"Everything is lovely," he says quietly.

"Feels good not having to wear so much armor, doesn’t it?" Hermann nods again. "Never would’ve bought them for yourself, would you?" Picking at the sleeve of his new sweater, Hermann nods and Newt spots the tears forming at the corners of the other man’s eyes. _That needs to stop_. _He needs to get used to people doing nice things for him_.

"By the way," Newt chirps, "Tendo wasn’t kidding about the bonfire. You can keep the shoes, but everything else goes." Hermann emits a little laugh and uses it as an excuse to wipe his eyes on his cuff.

Hermann levers himself to his feet and shuffles over to his luggage to find his pajamas. "Newton?" he asks a little nervously, it seems to Newt. "Did you rummage about in my suitcase today?

Newt pauses in middle of unbuttoning his shirt. "Maybe? Your socks not perfectly aligned?"

"Among other disruptions, yes," Hermann answers. "Do you remember for certain if you upset my things or not?"

"Nope. If I did, I’m sorry, okay?" Newt responds. _Why is he so concerned about how his stuff is packed_? _Is he really that obsessively organized_? "Let’s talk about something fun," he continues. "See any good atom smashing at CERN?"

Hermann gives a weary sigh. "I made some valuable contacts should I need to change careers yet again," he says.

"Cool. Networking," Newt replies as shimmies out of his pants and under the covers. "Sign any autographs?"

Hermann’s response is nearly inaudible even as he sits next to Newt to finish dressing. "Two," he whispers."

" _Really_? Oh, man! No one even recognized me! Which is a complete crime and we need to do something about it."

"You should know to be careful what you wish for now, Newton," Hermann says kindly.

Newt makes a 'ppft' noise and turns down the duvet for Hermann. "Oh man, we have to go back to that tiny bed and those five-thread-count sheet tomorrow, don’t we?" he whines. "Ugh. I can’t wait to get to the new house and a setup like this. It’s going to be so awesome."

"You know, Newton, this is only the second time in my life I’ve really looked forward to moving," Hermann says.

"What was the other time?"

"Leaving for university the first time, leaving home," he says softly. "We should probably get to sleep. Our flight leaves early tomorrow."

"Yeah. Probably. What can I do to help you nod off?" Newt asks.

"Oh? Nothing. I’ll be fine."

"No, you won’t. C’mere." He pulls Hermann’s head onto his chest and drapes an arm across his shoulders. "That should help," he says. Hermann grumbles and squirms in protest, but allows Newt to hold him in place. Within minutes, the winged man sleeps peacefully.

 _I’ve found his off switch_. _A heartbeat_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curiumKingyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo) suggested the seeds that became the "Manny" and substitute photograph incidents. It’s also their fault that Tendo is in this chapter at all after suggesting that Bastien and Tendo would get along famously. Even though I originally plotted it with just Bastien and Newt Tendo, of course, took over.
> 
> Bastien’s description has changed since I first introduced him a couple of chapters ago. I’m altering the earlier chapter to match. He is the closest in appearance to Hermann of the Gottlieb siblings.
> 
> This AU’s Newt doesn’t speak much German, having moved to the U.S. very young. Most of his knowledge consists of expletives and some basic guidebook phrases. Languages are not his strong suit. Despite living in Hong Kong for five years, he also can’t understand very much Cantonese. Hermann is fluent in both of these languages. Bastien has English and German and Tendo has a few phrases in Russian and Inupiat and some very poor Cantonese.


	20. Nice new outfits, passing notes, and an expanded vocabulary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read curiumKingyo's ["Pink"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1320016) before starting this chapter, as it covers the morning of this day and is important to understanding some of the interactions here.

Hermann astonishes himself by going along with the Newt's suggestion to wear some of the new clothes his brother and friends purchased the day before, albeit with a shirt ('eggshell') under the jumper ('forest green') and a firm refusal to remove the new coat. Newt wears the trainers ('red') he'd inexplicably acquired the day before and claims it's for moral support of Hermann, not because he actually likes the shoes.

Hermann doesn't laugh at the protests and feels quite proud of himself for it.

"Dude, you're not buttoning the collar all the way before you go out there," Newt says as Hermann finishes dressing. "The whole idea of the outfit is to make you look and feel more relaxed. Nothing says 'uptight' like a closed top button," Newt declares. Hermann dons a dubious expression. "C'mon, Hermann. Take a chance here. Do it for me. Please?" he pleads, stretching his hands toward the offending closure. Eyes averted, Hermann stands stock still as Newt undoes his collar and pulls the points a little farther apart. When Hermann pries his eyes open, Newt is grinning up at him. He returns a crooked smile.

Packing goes quickly thanks to Hermann's skill at arranging and fitting items as efficiently possible into their suitcases. Even so, the hotel porters look at the pile of luggage with sad resignation. Hermann passes them a generous tip after they haul everything to the car sent to carry the scientists to the airport.

Hermann watches the city scenery slide past for a few minutes before Newt decides to fill the quiet with chatter.

"What did Bastien say to you yesterday? Right before he left," he begins.

"Not content to leave private conversations private are you?" Hermann asks with a resigned tone.

"Nope. That kind of curiosity is what makes me a great scientist," Newt answers.

"That's certainly debatable," Hermann mumbles, before raising his voice and saying, "He told me to take care and keep an eye on you."

"What does he have against me?" Newt whines. "First he interrogates me, then he talks about me with your other brother and sister behind my back, then they all judge me, and _then_ he picks on me all day yesterday, and _now_ he's implying I can't take care of myself."

"He's apparently constructed an accurate picture of you very quickly."

"Shut up," Newt barks. "Did he put a tracker in my shoe or something so _he_ can keep an eye on me? He seems like the type."

"If he had, why would he ask me to mind you?" Hermann asks with a sly look.

"He probably only said it to throw me off and make me look in the wrong place. I'm going over everything with a fine-toothed comb when we get back to Hong Kong."

"Do you even know what a tracking device would look like?"

"That's what research is for. I didn't just download how to build a neural bridge directly into my brain. This isn't _The Matrix_ , dude."

"The jury remains out on that issue, Newton."

Newt chuckles. "Oh yeah. Your physicist buddies still haven't finished that experiment to find out if we're all part of a computer simulation yet, huh?"

At the airport, Tendo goggles at Hermann's undone top button and gives him a thumbs-up. Marshal Hansen double-takes him and rubs his eyes before voicing a greeting.

Mako smiles widely and Raleigh offers a smaller, but still warm smile and a handful of lemon candies. "You like these better than I do, Doctor," he says as he hands over the small bag. Hermann accepts the sweets with a surprised look and quiet thanks.

"We will see you again in a few days. Raleigh and I are making a trip to London," Mako says.

"If you find yourself in need of a guide, my younger brother will return to the city tomorrow afternoon. I can give you his contact information," Hermann volunteers.

"Thank you, Gottlieb- _hakase_. It is good to have a knowledgeable friend when in a new place," Mako replies and Hermann nods in agreement. He and Mako bow in farewell and Raleigh steps away, following her, after exchanging polite nods.

Newt beams throughout these exchanges and Hermann almost feels the pride radiating from the other man at the reactions Hermann's outfit. His gaze is almost ... admiring.

"Maybe buying you these was a mistake," he says, a little mischievously. "Seems like everyone can see how good looking you are. I don't want to spend a lot of time chasing off the competition."

Hermann rolls his eyes as he says, "Flattery is unbecoming." Newt snorts in reply.

With a shake of his head Newt refuses Hermann's offer a piece of candy. "How _do_ you do the lemon candy thing, anyway?" he asks. "Do they feel different? Can you _smell_ them or something? Detect a different vibration? How?"

Hermann unwraps one, pops it in his mouth, and shrugs. "They're a very specific shade of gray," he answers.

Hermann catches himself watching Newt—and not always from the corner of his eye—on the flight back to Hong Kong. He forces his eyes back to the environmental modeling text on his tablet each time, but staying focused proves a challenge. The note Bastien left in the pocket of his new coat continually floats to the top of his mind.

> Step lightly and take care, Manny. Someone thinks you and Newt have tread on their toes. My grapevine whispers several groups are investigating Newt and at least one of those is seeking information on you, too. I'll pass along anything I find. Keep your eyes and ears open. Moore may be only the beginning.

What are you thinking?" Newt enquires as he pops an earbud from his ear, snapping Hermann from his latest mental recitation. "You look like you're thinking."

Hermann rolls his eyes. "Of course I'm thinking. I rarely stop."

"Well, of course, but _that's_ the look you get when you're chewing over something important or sad."

"There's only a week remaining before you must be packed and ready to ship out to New Zealand," Hermann says with a sigh.

"You don't think this is a bad idea, healthwise, do you? The nearest hospital is an hour away by air. If something happens to you, I'm the only thing like a doctor closer. At least until the shoreside town starts rebuilding."

"It is not as though I could visit a hospital where I've lived in the past. Having a medic of any sort I trust nearby at all will be an improvement."

"That's not exactly reassuring, Hermann."

"I'll be very, very careful moving about, Newton, and you will be very, very careful about keeping paths clear and dry."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Newt chews his lip and disappears back into whatever 'music' he was listening to earlier.

Hermann turns back to his text and his worries. He continues to mull them over even after Newt falls asleep on his shoulder.

Darkness covers Hong Kong when they arrive, the huge, dark scars left by _Gipsy Danger_ 's battles with Leatherback and Otachi clearly visible from the air, revealed by their lack of lights.

After the long flight, Hermann's happiness at reaching his quarters is limited only by comparison with the four nights he'd spent in a luxury hotel. His home of the last five years seems positively tiny, dirty, and bare after the last few days in Europe. Still, it is home and one of the few places he can free his wings. Stiff from the travel, he accepts Newt's help with changing into pajamas and unfastening his binder. He even presses his wings against the other man's fingers as they caress his feathers.

"Before you get rid of those feathers we collected let's give your wings another once over. Sitting on the plane for so long probably squashed a few of them," Newt says as he digs into his suitcase looking for the brush. He freezes. "Ooo. That reminds me." He thumbs on his tablet and, fingers flying, types something. Hermann shoots him a questioning look from where he rests on the edge of the bed. "Have to update my shopping list. We're going to get some more grooming tools to try on you. I've been meaning to ask ... how did you do this before? Before I started helping?"

Hermann blushes and carefully studies his hands. "I've never really groomed them before. Aside from the occasional soak and shampoo, of course. I never figured out how and never cared to allow another to ... experiment on me. You're different," he says with a shy smile.

Newt's expression hovers at the intersection of surprised, horrified, and flattered, then darkens as Hermann's smile collapses into a sad line. "You're the first person I've met who loves monsters," he says with some bitterness.

"Way to ruin a beautiful and, frankly, romantic moment, Hermann. If this morning wasn't enough of a clue for you, or, you know, the past few weeks have gone _straight_ over your head, you _are_ a human being and I love _you_. And, for the record, I never loved the Kaiju. I studied them," Newt huffs.

Hermann gapes and his wings twitch nervously.

"What? What did I say? I didn't say anything you haven't heard from me before," Newt says with an exasperated edge in his voice.

"Yes, you did say something new," Hermann replies evenly.

"No, I'm pretty sure everything was a repeat. I've said all of that about a million times." Newt's annoyance broadcasts from every syllable.

"Newton, you said 'I love you'," Hermann says quietly.

"I did?" Newt squeaks and Hermann nods. "Uh ... well," Newt stammers. "Yeah. Well, I mean it. I-I figured it out this morning." He pauses to chew his lower lip for a moment. "This … here … _you_ is where I belong. So, yeah, ' _love_ ' is a decent abbreviation for that."

Hermann's brain locks and he stares open-mouthed at Newt.

"Say something, Hermann. Don't just look at me like that. You're freaking me out." Newt sits beside the other man, carefully keeping physical contact at a minimum.

 _As though I'm going to fly away at the slightest excuse_. _Perceptive of him_.

"You haven't heard that before. Except from family." Newt says softly.

Hermann shakes his head. "Once," he whispers and shifts a little farther away from his companion.

"Dude … you deserve so much better than that," Newt says and scootches close enough to Hermann to bestow a brief hug on him. Hermann flinches, only a tiny bit, and his wings jerk out of Newt's reach, but he doesn't otherwise move. His blank expression remains the same.

"Hokay, Hermann. I think your brain's fried. I'll get your meds while you reboot. Think you can handle that?" Hermann nods shakily.

"Thank you, Newt. I don't deserve this," he says when Newt returns with a glass of water and the proper handful of pills.

"Yes, you do. I _just_ told you that. Is your memory starting to go?" Newt asks. Hermann emits an offended snort and starts to frame a snarky reply. " _That's_ more like it. Now, shut up and go to sleep, dude. We'll check your feathers in the morning." He pushes Hermann, gently, toward his preferred side of the bed.

"One more thing," Newt says as they settle in for the night, "It's about time you started calling me 'Newt'. Eleven years, five months, and 27 days is a long time to wait." When Hermann gapes, he continues, smirking, "You're not the only one who can count, Manny."

"Don't call me that," Hermann growls and pulls his wing away from Newt, who squalls in response.

"Okay, dude, you win. No nicknames for now in exchange for not freezing to death," Newt says. Hermann sniffs in approval and re-extends his wing. Newt snuffles and shifts for a few minutes before Hermann hears his breathing slow to its normal sleeping rhythm.

Hermann, despite his fatigue, remains fully awake. So much of what happened in Geneva bothers him, from the politicians' attitudes toward the Jaeger program, to the American delegate's attacks, to his father's words, to his disarranged suitcase, to Bastien's note. It all swirls confusedly in his mind, repeating itself over and over.

Until what Bastien whispered on parting dances through his thoughts.

> " _He loves you_. Don't forget."

Hermann gazes at the man sleeping beside him and reflects on the note Bastien left in the pocket of his new coat.

 _I'd hoped to be done fighting_ , Hermann thinks, _but some things are worth fighting for_. He wraps his wing more tightly around Newt.

With that, he puts on his glasses, connects his tablet to the internet, and begins his research, careful to keep the screen as dim as possible, mindful the light could disturb Newt's rest.


	21. Russians, spotless minds, and a pair of mementos

When Newt wakes, his vision blurred without his glasses, he sees something wrong with Hermann’s face, which seems smudged with a dark material. Newt flails for his glasses to get a better look and exhales in relief when he recognizes Hermann fell asleep wearing his reading glasses. His tablet is wedged halfway under his pillow.

 _Okay_. _That’s a new one_ , Newt thinks. He eases the tablet out and flicks it on to see what had so engrossed his bedmate. _Political news_. _Why the hell was he_ … ?

Newt’s train of thought derails when he makes out the topic of the article Hermann left open: U.S. UN representative Steven Moore. _The asshole who gave us such a hard time in Geneva_. _What was Hermann_ … ? Luckily for Newt, Hermann compulsively annotates his reading. If the notes are any indication, he hasn’t found much beyond basic employment information.

 _He’ll be_ pissed _if he catches me poking around in here_ , Newt thinks and quickly turns off the tablet and slips it back where he found it. He slides out of bed, pulls on a t-shirt from his part of the closet, and seats himself at the desk with his own tablet.

Newt re-reads his list of purchases and chores he needs to complete before leaving for New Zealand in a week to set up the island for the project and to make the house safe and ready for Hermann’s arrival. He adds a few more items and a reminder to have the paths leveled and patched before turning to his email.

 _Does the man ever sleep_? he asks himself when he spots the message from Marshal Hansen sent in the small hours.

> Department chiefs,
> 
> The first news from the UN is coming down.
> 
>   1. They will not pay to salvage _Cherno Alpha_ or _Crimson Typhoon_ from Victoria Harbour. Direct your complaints to the suits, not me.
>   2. The Wall is being abandoned and they're selling contracts to break it down to private companies.
>   3. All Shatterdomes still owned by the PPDC will be sold to private buyers, except Hong Kong, which will be given to the city government.
>   4. Which means we need to clean up and get the hell out of here by the end of the month. Mister Choi will contact each of you with what you need to do. He's in charge of the decommissioning logistics, so bother him.
>   5. Everyone, down to the last janitor, will get a severance package. No, they haven't told me how much they will be worth.
>   6. Nothing official, but that last makes it look like the entire PPDC is being shut down. If you haven't started looking for jobs: START NOW.
> 

> 
> I'll pass along other news as soon as I get it.
> 
> Tell your people.
> 
> Marshal Hercules Hansen

" _They’re leaving the Jaegers_!?" he yelps.

Hermann jerks awake at the yell, wings fluttering frantically. He struggles to focus on Newt through his glasses, which render the biologist an unrecognizable blur. "What is going on, Newton?" he growls in a groggy voice as he finally pulls off his glasses.

"Hansen wrote us last night. The UN is leaving the Jaegers on the bottom of the harbor," Newt answers, disapproval clear.

"How _dare_ they … ," Hermann says as he hauls himself to his feet and lurches across the room to read the message over Newt’s shoulder, wings flaring both to help his balance and in what Newt recognizes as annoyance. "How dare they. The Kaidanovskys are still out there," he says quietly.

"I know, dude. That’s the worst thing in all of this crap," Newt says as he waves a frustrated hand at the screen. "Russia’s probably ironing out a deal with the Chinese to do the work on their own, like Hong Kong city did for the Weis," he adds in what he hopes is a reassuring voice after seeing the distress on Hermann’s face.

Hermann makes a noise in the back of his throat, grabs his cane, and shuts himself in the bathroom. Long minutes pass without water running or Hermann returning. Newt rises and knocks at the bathroom door. "Hermann? You okay in there?" No answer. "Hermann? If you don’t say something in the next ten seconds, I’m coming in." Still no answer.

Newt opens the door to find Hermann sitting on the floor with his face buried in his hands, his wings drooping over his shoulders. As Newt crouches beside him, he sees the tear tracks on Hermann’s cheeks and watches the man’s frame shake as he cries silently.

 _They were his friends_ , he thinks, _for nearly as long as I’ve been_. The ring Sasha gave him the last time he saw her suddenly feels very heavy.

Newt pulls down a clean washcloth and holds it out for Hermann to take when he’s ready. Hermann remains still for a long moment then accepts the cloth and dries his eyes. He exhales a shaky breath.

"I think they knew about me," Hermann says quietly. "They’d probably known since the Academy and I was lying to myself in thinking otherwise. They took my secret to their graves, protecting me."

"Protecting the rest of Hong Kong, too, Hermann," Newt gently reminds him, nudging him with an elbow. He can’t resist asking, "What makes you think they knew?"

Hermann responds with a crooked smile. "They used to be prison guards and I let them embrace me. Tightly and often." He hides his face in his hands again. "I was so desperate for contact … I took the chance without thinking … ."

"You took a chance and it paid off, dude," Newt points out. "You got good friends and affection and living proof that someone can successfully help you hide for over a decade."

"I suppose you’re right," Hermann admits. He takes a deep breath, clamps a hand on Newt’s shoulder, and uses it as a fulcrum to lever himself to his feet. "We should prepare and dress for the day," he says.

"Whoa, dude!" Newt calls. "Before you do that, let’s groom you. It’ll put you in a more positive frame of mind." Hermann looks at him skeptically for a moment before he nods and walks to his desk chair while Newt retrieves the brush.

As he systematically works his way through Hermann’s feathers, Newt decides to pry into why Hermann was researching their tormentor. "I’ve seen you fall asleep reading before, but never with your glasses on. Whatever it was must’ve been amazing to keep you up so late," he says conversationally.

"I’m afraid it wasn’t. The long day of travel caught up with me unexpectedly while I was doing some routine reading," Hermann replies and punctuates the statement with a yawn and a gentle stretching of his wings between brushstrokes.

"Uh huh. I almost believe you," Newt teases as he finishes the final rank of coverts. "You were probably reading _Doctor Who_ fanfiction or something equally nerdy."

Hermann responds with an affronted snort. "After breakfast, should we begin packing the lab or your quarters?" he asks.

 _Way to change the subject, dude. What’re you trying to hide_? Newt thinks. Aloud, he says, "Ugh. Let’s start with my room. I’m not ready to deal with all the stuff that’s built up in the lab over the years."

"I’ve seen cleaner dorm rooms," Hermann says under his breath as he steps into Newt’s quarters after the pair have showered, dressed, breakfasted, and, in Hermann’s case, bound.

" _I heard that_!" Newt yells. "I’ve been busier than the average undergrad. You know, trying to save the world and all. A little more important than finishing a ten-page paper on _Moby Dick_ ," he huffs.

Hermann rolls his eyes and clearly decides against a snarky remark. "Where shall we begin?" he asks instead. "I’m not touching the inevitable collection of _hentai_."

"Why does _everyone_ assume I’m into tentacles?" Newt whines as he braces his hands on his hips. "It’s getting _really_ old." Hermann fixes him with a most unimpressed look. Newt throws up his hands in frustration. "Here. You can start by gathering up all the Kaiju books on the lower shelves for shipping. If it says ‘kaiju’ or ‘monster’ on the cover it goes in the box. I’ll work on the stuff up high," Newt says and scrambles up onto the desk to better reach. He begins carefully peeling up the tape holding up one of his _Godzilla_ film posters to roll it up for storage. Hermann sighs and sets to on the contents of the sagging bookshelf. They work quietly for a while.

"What about these?" Hermann ask, offering a small pile of hardbacks for Newt’s inspection. Newt climbs down from his perch for a better look.

"Oh _god_. My yearbooks. I haven’t thought of these in years," Newt marvels. He reaches to take them, then pulls back his hands. "You know what?" he says. "Just throw them out. I don’t want to remember."

"Are you sure about this, Newt?" Hermann asks softly.

"Yeah. High school and college were not fun times for me," Newt says with a nervous laugh.

"I always assumed you were quite popular."

"No way, dude! I was the weird kid no one wanted to be seen with. I was _years_ younger than anyone in my classes and _still_ the smartest one." He pauses and shakes his head. "I don’t know if things are different in Germany, but American kids are _seriously_ anti-intellectual. I was _lucky_ they just ignored me."

Newt pushes his glasses up onto his forehead and rubs his eyes. "That’s why I latched onto you so hard when you started writing me, you know," he says. "You were the first person outside my gene pool who took me seriously. Like an equal rather than some kind of freak."

Hermann’s answering smile is crooked. "Birds of a feather and all that, I suppose … ," he says.

"Dude … ," Newt lets his glasses drop back into place and they land a bit askew. "Did you just … just make a joke? About birds?" Hermann shrugs in answer. "We should probably alert … somebody … ." He stares at Hermann for a moment. "Or maybe I should give you a reward. Condition you to use humor more."

"I am not a dog to be trained, Newton," Hermann snarls.

"It was ‘Newt’ five minutes ago," the biologist teases. "And I _know_. It was a _joke_. Anyway, get rid of those books. Just thinking about them is depressing me. They don’t even deserve the dignity of joining the bonfire with your old clothes. Throw ‘em in the trash. Now."

Hermann nods solemnly and sets the books in the bottom of the waste bin. "Goodbye, bad memories," he murmurs.

"Too bad it’s not that simple, huh?" Newt asks, then freezes midway through pulling down another poster and his face takes on a thoughtful expression. "I wonder if we could modify a neural bridge to locate and delete selected memories … ."

"That is a terrible idea," Hermann scoffs.

"Yeah, it probably is, but I bet someone will try, though."

" _Of course_ someone will. As long as there’s a chance to profit by selling the ‘service’ to the desperate in the name of ‘helping’."

Newt snorts in agreement. "Yeah … let’s talk about how awful those people are over lunch."

After lunch, Newt takes one step into his quarters and declares it time to switch to packing in Hermann’s room. Hermann sighs and retraces his steps along the corridor to his own door, walking side-by-side with Newt. Only a fraction of an hour passes before a very polite knock sounds at the door.

"Hey, Hermann," Tendo says as he pokes his head into the room, "I have some bad news." Hermann stops sorting the books Newt pulled down from the upper shelves and glances at the tech chief. "It just came down that the UN will fund only four monitoring stations around the Pacific to keep eyes on the former Breach. I figure you're the guy to ask about where we should put them."

Hermann's mouth moves wordlessly for a moment before he finds his voice. " _Four_? _Four_?" he screeches. "How do they expect to cover the entire Pacific with _four_ stations? We had _twenty-six_ and there were _still_ blind spots!"

Tendo raises his hands, palms out, in mollification. "I know, I know, brother," he says. "These are the same guys who backed the Wall after all. Making stupid decisions is what they do. But if anyone can find a way to make this marginally less stupid, it's you." Hermann grumbles, waves at Newt, and follows Tendo toward the lab to begin calculating the best locations for the monitors with the holo-projector.

Newt watches Hermann go with a twinge. He sighs. _Might as well keep working_. _All these books won’t pack themselves_.

A dog-eared photo falls out of _Through the Looking Glass_ as Newt lifts it from its place on the shelf and flutters to the floor. Newt climbs down and studies it. Hermann doesn’t have many photographs, not even in those supposedly locked folders on his tablet, so this merits investigation. It shows a quartet of young people, sitting in winter sunshine, all smiling. He sees a familiar face. "I know her!" he chirps. "She was great!"

Newt flips the picture over to read the words penciled on the back: "Hermann, Edan, Rhys, Vigsai. 7 December 2005".

 _Hermann_? _Wait_ … . He turns back to the image.

He picks out a young Hermann at the edge, a full and beautiful smile on his face. _No wonder I didn’t recognize him_ … .

Hermann’s eyes focus not on the camera but on the boy next to him. He looks to be a little taller than Hermann and nearly as thin, with mussed ginger hair, bright green eyes, and a few freckles across his nose.

Hermann’s arm brushes against the ginger’s.

Hermann never touches anyone by accident.

Dietrich said something about a boy Hermann met at school.

Newt decides to play it cool and be subtle asking about it when Hermann gets back. The man finally returns long after the dinner hour, looking tired and frustrated and still mumbling about politicians’ stupidity.

"Can I tell you a ‘small world’ story?" Newt asks as he helps Hermann out of his binder for the evening.

"Is there anything I could do to convince you otherwise?"

"No," Newt answers. "My second year at MIT the department gives me my first doctoral student to advise. She’s this tiny thing with this weird accent I can barely understand, but she’s sweet and smart and wants to develop fully functional human retinal tissue. I’m all ‘that’s pretty specific’ and ask her why. She tells me this story about how she had an achromatopsic classmate and how that got her interested in eye tissue. She’d been hooked ever since."

"Vigsai Singh," Hermann says. "It’s a small world, indeed. What brings this bit of ancient history up today?"

"A picture of her fell out of one of your books when I moved it."

"Oh." Hermann looks away and focuses on removing his socks and finding his slippers.

"I thought it was neat we were sort of connected even before we heard of each other and that, you know, you inspire people without even trying," Newt continues. "Umm … there are a couple of other kids in the picture with you two. So … uh … who’s Edan?" he finally stammers.

A long pause ends in a tight reply. "Another classmate."

"You still in touch?"

"He’s dead," Hermann’s voice goes flat and he fixates on a bit of lint on the quilt. "He was at Stanford on K-Day. Why do you ask?" Newt’s heart sinks to the floor at the mention of the university. Trespasser had utterly decimated the campus before crashing to its demise in Oakland.

Even so, curiosity (and if he’s honest with himself, some jealousy) forces him to steel himself and go on. "Because in the picture you’re smiling at him and touching his arm. You don’t _do_ that."

Hermann still refuses to meet Newt’s eyes as he answers quietly, "I was a different person then, Newt."

"Yeah, but Iggy mentioned that one of the reasons for her fascination was the achromatopsic—you—could never see the color of his boyfriend’s eyes and she thought that was awful," Newt says. Hermann fiddles more intensely with the quilt. Newt finally gives up the pretense of subtlety. "I’m not competing with a dead guy, am I?" he blurts.

"Of course not," Hermann scoffs, finally looking up. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because you’ve carried this guy’s picture for twenty years, _maybe_?"

Hermann sighs one of his long-suffering sighs. "Newton, hand me that book," he commands. He slides his fingertips under the endpapers at the back and tugs out a slightly frayed and yellowed sheet of paper. He hands it to Newt with a neutral expression.

Newt unfolds it to find the very first letter he sent to Hermann, obviously well-read and carefully preserved. "Oh," he whispers and sits down next to the other man.

"It’s not a competition," Hermann says. "I’ve carried both of you with me." He plucks the letter from Newt’s hands and returns it to its place under the endpapers. He gazes at the photograph for another moment before doing the same with it, carefully closing the book when he finishes.

"You kept that letter even after we decided we hated each other?" Newt asks after he recovers his voice.

"All of them are around here somewhere," Hermann responds.

"What about his letters? You kept them, too, right?"

"There weren’t any: only the photograph."

"How do you date a guy for _seven_ years and only have _one_ picture?" Newt shrills in amazement.

Hermann’s expression instantly darkens and his face closes and Newt realizes he has epically stepped in it. "Hermann, what happened?" he asks gently.

"My father," Hermann begins and Newt can _taste_ the bitterness in his voice, "transferred me to another university soon after I met Edan. I never saw him again. My father was … uncomfortable with my involvement in a romantic relationship."

Newt requires a full five-count to pull his jaw from the floor and unclench his fingers. "Next time— _if_ there’s a next time—I see your dad, I’m not going to hold back. Security will need a taser to pry me off of him," he growls. "Did that asshole _ever_ do right by you?"

Hermann shrugs. "He kept me alive and safe, made sure I was properly educated, and lobbied the Jaeger program to hire me, at the very least."

"Well, I guess that’s _something_ ," Newt replies. He thinks for a beat. "I’m still going to beat his ass if I see him again, though. Fair warning."

"If you can’t control yourself, I will not pay your bail," Hermann says, deadly serious.

"S’okay. I have other friends and, if that doesn’t work out, I’ve spent a night or two in jail for worse reasons." When Hermann raises an eyebrow, Newt goes on, "No use looking, dude. Juvenile records are sealed in the States."

Hermann smirks. "Computer security in the United States is also overrated."

"Did you just imply you can hack into court records?"

"I implied no such thing. I merely repeated information I have on good authority," Hermann sniffs.

"Your little black book must be a _fascinating_ read."

Hermann ignores the remark and settles the book, with its hidden contents, into the final slot in the box he was packing. "That is probably enough work for one day," he says as he stretches his arms, back, and wings before reaching for his pajamas.

"Good idea. We’re almost done in here, anyway. Need to save our strength."

"We’ll need it to deal with your side of the lab," Hermann snarks.

"Dude, don’t remind me," Newt moans.

"Then come to bed and forget about it for a few hours," Hermann says. "Dream of something pleasant."

"You, too, Hermann," Newt says as he burrows into the blankets and under Hermann’s outstretched feathers.

He dreams of a world exactly like his own, except the Hermann he meets brings a red-headed husband in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read [puff22_2001](http://archiveofourown.org/users/puff22_2001/pseuds/puff22_2001)’s "[The Golden Eagle and the Owl](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1262248)" for background on the relationships between the Kaidanovskys and Newt and Hermann, including the story of the ring and the parka. Puff and I were talking after that story went up and realized it was very likely the Russians would've noticed something ... odd about their friend fairly quickly, but, being the Kaidanovskys, would've shrugged and passed the vodka. They wouldn’t have lasted very long as prison guards if they weren’t able to detect something unusual hidden under clothing with a quick touch.
> 
> Immediately after this chapter went live, puff posted "[The White Eagle and the Owl](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1345129)", which explores the relationship between the German and the Russians even more. 
> 
> I take Sasha’s call of "Water is reaching the reactor" to mean seawater got through _Cherno_ ’s compromised hull to the reactor containment vessel. Under such circumstances, the water would be broken down into hydrogen and oxygen by the extreme heat. Which would make the flash we see and boom we hear a hydrogen explosion rather than a nuclear explosion. The orange color of the fireball also suggests a hydrogen burn. A hydrogen explosion is (obviously) fatal to someone near the source of the blast, but it’s important that we’re accurate about the nature of what happened, especially since a catastrophic reactor failure would have vaporized at least Leatherback, if not most of Victoria Harbour, instead of leaving enough of _Cherno_ intact for Leatherback to keep pounding on until it stops to take on _Striker Eureka_. I’m going to pretend the Russians built _Cherno_ with reactor safeguards that shut it down safely before a meltdown could occur, leaving nuclear fuel and waste in a secure containment vessel on the bottom of the harbor, rather than a ticking nuclear bomb.
> 
> [curiumKingyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo) suggested that _Through the Looking Glass_ might be Hermann’s ‘desert island’ book. I found it very hard to decide between it and [firefinchofqing](http://firefinchofqing.tumblr.com/)’s recommendation of _R.U.R._.
> 
> To learn more about Edan, Vigsai, and Rhys, read my stories "Ginger" and "Heartbreaker" and puff's "Please Don't Fly Where I Can't Follow."
> 
> That last sentence is totally [sherriaisling](http://sherriaisling.tumblr.com/)’s fault. She planted the suggestion of an AU of the AU 'where Hermann shows up at the Shatterdome with an adorkable Scottish husband in tow'.
> 
> ETA: 5/23/14: The name of Hermann's female friend changed to Vigsai. Her original name was too similar to 'Karla,' so I changed it to make things clearer.


	22. Tea parties, simple things, pizza, and lentils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for [artificiallifecreator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallifecreator/pseuds/artificiallifecreator), whose brilliant suggestion in the comments on the last chapter gave rise to the opening section of this one and completely saved it. And then they saved it again by helping me clean up the pizza delivery section.
> 
> Reading [curiumKingyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo)’s "[Private Peace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1168783)" before this will help the middle make a little more sense.

His quarters are crowded, as they always are on those rare occasions friends visit. Sasha and Aleksis lounge on the bed, powerful limbs tangled lovingly around each other’s. Hermann watches them from his perch in his swivel chair, cup of tea prepared Russian style in his hand.

Aleksis jokes just as Sasha sips from her own cup and she nearly spits the hot liquid across the room. She swallows and the trio laugh even harder. Hermann wipes tears from his eyes even as his open wings continue to shake from the final giggles escaping him. The part of his mind watching the action from outside startles at the revelation, but the rest of him only pours more tea as the conversation flows.

On parting, they agree on a date for dinner in the city—Newt is invited, as well—and exchange farewells. The Russian couple embrace him, kiss both his cheeks, and gently run their strong hands along the edge of his wing before strolling out with wide smiles.

The room fades away, but the sensation of fingers against his feathers continues. He recognizes the touch as Newt’s and slowly opens his eyes.

"That must’ve been a great dream," Newt says "You were nearly purring, dude."

Hermann hums and blinks a few more times to better focus his vision. His voice creaks with sleep, but his eyes are bright as he answers, "Some old friends dropped by for tea."

"That was enough, huh?"

"What can I say? I am a man of simple pleasures," Hermann replies.

"Oh, really," Newt says and raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Want to discuss them further over breakfast?"

"I believe I’d rather allow you to figure them out on your own," Hermann answers.

"Heh," Newt laughs. "Challenge accepted, Hermann."

With a snort, the winged man pushes himself up and out of bed to get ready for the day. He turns his back as he limps to the bathroom so he misses Newt’s roguish grin.

In an increasingly common mutual agreement, the two leave breakfast and return to the lab to continue packing. Hermann looks over his neatly organized side and smiles. _This will take no time at all_ , he thinks. _Some constructive procrastination may be in order_.

He fills his kettle with water and sets it to boil on the hot plate. As he retrieves the box of teas from his desk, he tries to remember the last time he bothered to make a cup for himself. _Another habit I need to re-establish_. _We finally have time again_ , he thinks as he drops a sachet of Earl Grey into one of the porcelain cups he’s carried from posting to posting over the last decade.

 _Maybe this next move will be the last_. _A home_ , _friends nearby_ , _and a_ … _companion would be a marvelous way to spend_ … _time_. Hermann shakes the wistful smile from his face and sets about emptying desk drawers between sips of tea, half-listening to Newt flail his disorganized way around his half of the room.

He finishes his second cup and empties three drawers before Newt interrupts his thoughts, materializing far enough inside Hermann’s personal space to make him jump in surprise.

"Dude. You realize, after we move, we can’t have pizza delivered anymore?" he asks, eyes wide in realization and worry.

"We don’t often have pizza delivered _now_. For which my digestive system is thankful and yours should be," Hermann retorts.

"But there won’t even be the opportunity! It-it’s like we’ll be cut off from civilization!" Newt cries and gestures wildly.

Hermann rolls his eyes and says sarcastically, "Because the possibility of greasy slabs of ‘food’ arriving in response to your request is a marker of true civilization."

"Stop being a spoilsport," Newt says as he fishes his phone from a pocket. He finishes the order and looks up with a mischievous smile. "Want to make this a picnic? Same place as last time?"

Hermann’s eyes widen and he sits up a little straighter. "There is only a skeleton crew left … . The roof should be empty and I believe the weather today is supposed to be lovely," Hermann answers slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"I’ll go check with the security office and pick up the alarm system if you take care of collecting the food," Newt volunteers.

"Any excuse to stick me with the tab," Hermann grumps through a smile.

"You’ve uncovered my cunning plan," Newt says with a dramatic flair.

Hermann sighs. "Best get going, then. By my watch you have twenty minutes."

Newt snaps a sloppy salute and all but skips out of the lab to collect the materials needed for their rooftop picnic and check the security cameras still possess a blind spot. If the gap remains, Hermann will be able to safely release his wings and feel the wind and sun on his feathers.

The pizza arrives at the lab on time—the restaurant having long ago been granted GPS directions to every work area of the Shatterdome to save time and the effort required to guide the food to the proper location—and before Newt returns.

"Where would you like these?" the deliveryperson asks.

"On the desk, please," Hermann answers.

The visitor casts a wary eye around the lab, lingering on Newt's side of the room. "Uh, are you sure you want to eat in here? With _those_?" he inquires.

"We—my partner and I—will be taking them outside. He should be back soon, but thank you for the offer of help," Hermann answers.

With a polite bow, the deliveryperson accepts Hermann's generous tip and leaves the lab. Newt bounces back minutes later armed with a backpack, pillows, and a blanket. His enthusiasm quickly infects Hermann and he offers a small smile as Newt helps him to his feet and passes him the supplies under his arm to carry. They set off for the roof side-by-side, Hermann’s smile growing with each step.

Gazing over the harbor, Hermann tries to soak every detail of the landscape into his memory, from the reconstruction work on Stonecutters Bridge to the skyline with the new gaps punched by Otachi and _Gipsy Danger_. A wave of regret washes over him that he never visited the roof while the city was intact—or at least as intact as it was after Reckoner. He shakes it off as Newt places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Hermann leans into the touch and lets Newt lead him to where he laid out the picnic.

He relaxes into his seat on a pillow and stretches his legs out in front of him. Hermann shrugs out of his leather coat, pulls his jumper (‘navy blue’) off over his head, and works on the buttons of his shirt (‘dusty purple’), while Newt flutters nearby. He treats Newt to a small smile as Newt reaches eagerly for the buckles of his binding. The garment falls away and Hermann teases Newt by opening his wings very slowly, watching with a smirk as the other man’s mouth drops open.

Hermann closes his eyes and basks in the warmth of the sunshine and the wind tickling his feathers. The wind whispers to him of rapidly approaching spring. _It will be fall in New Zealand_. _This year will have two winters for us_. _Good thing I own so many jumpers_. He snags a slice of pizza and munches contentedly, allowing the breeze to ruffle his feathers and his hair.

"Looking forward to the day we don’t have to sneak up here for a little peace?" Newt asks between mouthfuls.

"Very much so," Hermann says with certainty. "I also will not miss those final three flights of stairs."

"You still up for the movie tonight?" Newt prompts. "Tendo says he’s picked something special for Valentine’s Day. A foreign film, I guess." Hermann hums an assent.

They remain on the roof, undisturbed, for the rest of the afternoon. Hermann soaking in the sun, eyes closed, while Newt does little more than stare at him. The sun begins to set and the breeze dies down. Hermann sighs and reaches for his clothes, giving his wings one final stretch in the open air before dressing again.

He lets Newt guide him to a couch at the back of the darkened Shatterdome staff lounge to watch the movie Tendo chose.

Newt controls himself until the title graphic appears on screen, then fakes a yawn and stretches his arms over his head. Rather than returning his arm to his side, he drapes it across Hermann’s shoulders even though the odd angle caused by their height difference promises to cause an ache. Hermann rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest.

That changes when Newt begins stroking the feathers along the outer edge of Hermann’s folded wing, smoothing them along the bone through his clothes. Hermann shivers happily at the sensation before freezing in place. He hisses and Newt stills. After a short, sharp nod from Hermann, Newt leaves his hand in place for the rest of the movie.

"You ever do the lentil thing?" Newt asks as they stroll back to their quarters.

"Why do you ask?"

"You chuckled at it."

"Did I?" Hermann snorts. "Well, it is every bit as fascinating as Ms. Tautou made it seem." He studies his companion. "You should visit the market and try it for yourself."

"Maybe we should make a date out of it," Newt replies as he unlocks and opens the door.

"Wasn’t today enough ‘dates’ for you?"

"No such thing, dude. Besides, we’ve got to a pack a few in now, since we have that week apart at the end of the month," Newt says.

Hermann rolls his eyes and responds, "I’m sure we’ll survive being separated for seven days," as he undresses and climbs into bed.

"’Survive’? Of course, but you’ll probably be extra clingy when we’re reunited," Newt says with a wide smile.

"For your information, I do not ‘cling’; I keep hold of you so you don’t sneak out and do something idiotic during the night," Hermann huffs.

"Build _one_ neural bridge from spare parts and they _never_ let you live it down," Newt mumbles.

"It was garbage, Newt, don't bother saying otherwise."

Newt blows a raspberry, before continuing, "I hope your friends drop by for dream tea again tonight, Hermann, I think today was the happiest I’ve ever seen you."

Hermann pauses a moment in thought, then lays his head on Newt’s chest. "I’ll deny this later," he says, "but I think you may be right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pizza section is rewritten from a Tumblr prompt minifill I crafted for [killerweasel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel)
> 
> The rooftop picnic is a reference and a revisit of [curiumKingyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo)’s "[Private Peace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1168783)". I like the concept so well I had to take a shot at it, too, although cK’s story completely puts mine to shame.
> 
> The movie is, of course, [_Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain_](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0211915/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1).


	23. Instinct, edible stickers, black books, and real estate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> curiumKingyo's "[Brown](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1242703)" occurs the night before this chapter starts. So go read it.

Hermann faces away from him this morning and Newt contents himself with watching the rise and fall of his back with each breath and the sleepy twitches of his wings.

Newt has no intention getting out of bed until Hermann wakes up on his own. Not when the only thing on his day’s agenda is more packing. He fidgets for a moment before deciding 'on his own' allows for gentle encouragement toward wakefulness.

Experimentally, Newt puffs air at the feathers in front of him and notes how Hermann mumbles something unintelligible and unconsciously adjusts the angle of the leading edge of his wing for a moment, then lets it relax into a neutral position.

 _God_ , _he is fun to tease. It gets results_ , _too_ , Newt thinks, remembering the soft touch of Hermann's finger against his lips and, even better, the gentle caramel-flavored kiss. He grins, the contents of his chest feeling more like a gooey mess of chocolates left in the sun than proper organs.

Newt repeats the puff, aiming at a slightly different spot. The wing repositions itself at a new angle. Newt grins. _He instinctively knows how to use these properly_ , _but doesn't have the muscles or wingspan to actually fly_.

He tries the puff test again and smiles at yet another angle of attack, then startles as Hermann’s voice breaks in on his mental calculations.

"Enjoying yourself, Newton?" he asks. "May I remind you I am not a specimen for study? Especially not at this hour of the morning?"

"Yeah, I am and you can remind me, but that doesn't mean my inner and outer biologist can resist," Newt says with a smile and a shrug before reaching out to touch Hermann's feathers. Hermann's wing shivers in response. "Did you know you automatically move your wings in response to airflow?"

"I’m vaguely aware of my tendency to shift them so I do not become a kite," he answers.

"It’s not that sort of movement. It’s more purposeful, like you’re trying to get lift. It’s pretty awesome," Newt says with obvious admiration. "You’ve got the instincts to fly."

"A fat lot of good those instincts do me," Hermann grumbles. "All of the proper software, none of the proper hardware."

"They're beautiful hardware, though," Newt says as he resumes running his fingers through Hermann's feathers. "It's pretty awesome I get to see them."

"It's not as though I had much choice after our Drift, Newt," Hermann responds. "You knew of my condition, so it became pointless to hide them."

"You make it sound like such a chore to have someone you can be yourself around," Newt replies sarcastically. "You've gotten pretty comfortable being shirtless around me."

Hermann's answer comes with a note of affection in his voice. "Perhaps I've simply resigned my self to the fact I will likely never be rid of you and I should make the best of the situation."

"You don't want to get rid of me. Not when I bring romance in the form of rooftop picnics and chocolate."

"Yes, the risk of discovery and a substance which makes me violently ill," Hermann says with a roll of his eyes.

"It's the thought which counts and you certainly seemed to enjoy it last night," Newt teases. Hermann huffs to cover a small blush.

After breakfast in the mess, the scientists part ways, Hermann heading directly to the lab, while Newt skips off to check the mail and make a caffeine run.

"Dude, I brought you some coffee," Newt calls to what appears to be an empty lab. "Tang Mǐn made you a foam kitten!"

Hermann emerges from the far reaches of his side of the lab, looking slightly sour, to collect his drink. He brightens when he catches a glimpse of his cup. Two baleful chocolate eyes stare back.

"Yeah, it sort of collapsed on the way here. When you see her next, say you loved it and it was adorable."

"Miss Yeung is a reasonable young woman. I don't think she'll mind," Hermann replies.

A bubble pops and a chocolate flake wobbles.

"It just winked at you! Cats do that when they love you!" Newt pipes. "Dude, you can't tell her I killed your kitten. Please."

Hermann rolls his eyes and takes a sip. The two men lean against a desk and enjoy their beverages for a moment or two.

"Mind if I turn on some music while we work?" Newt asks.

"Quietly."

Newt queues up something on his laptop and adjust the volume to what he hopes is an acceptable level. Hermann drinks more of his latte, then cocks his head to better listen.

"I didn't realize Wire qualified as music to you," Hermann says.

"They're no Van Halen," Newt replies, "but I'm capable of compromise."

Hermann snorts and begins working on sorting and packing in the area nearest Newt's side of the lab, causing Newt to smile. It only takes a few minutes before Newt grows bored with shifting paperwork into cardboard boxes and stop to watch Hermann. The man moves quickly and efficiently through his area, touching each object or item of furniture only briefly before proceeding to the next.

"Are you putting color-coded stickers on stuff?" Newt asks.

Hermann nods. "Black labels can be disposed of. White labels indicate my personal property. Any other color marks things the PPDC indicates it wants back."

"Neat. Can I borrow your method and have some of those stickers?" Newt asks, hand outstretched toward Hermann who passes over roughly half of the sheets in his hand. "Thanks! This'll really speed things up and I need to get a move on if I'm going to finish in time."

"When I finish, I'll assist with your belongings," Hermann says, adding, _sotto voce_ , "You clearly require all the help you can get."

Twenty minutes later, Newt appears beside Hermann. "I need more of those stickers. I'm out," he says. At Hermann's responding raised eyebrow, he protests, "I have a lot of stuff, dude! What else do you think I'd do with them? Eat ‘em?"

Around midafternoon, Hermann clears his throat while standing directly behind Newt, making him jump. "Where should I begin?" Hermann asks.

"Uh ... well .. I haven't started on the list Tendo sent me, so maybe you could hunt that stuff down," Newt answers as he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. Hermann sighs and opens Newt's email on his own tablet to view the list. "Did you just hack into my email?" Newt squeaks.

"I ... ah ... took some time while you were out yesterday afternoon shopping for 'romance' to upgrade the security and encryption protocols on your tablet." He puts on a smug grin. "I only needed three attempts to guess your email password."

"You broke into my personal files," Newt responds levelly.

"I didn't bother. I only installed and upgraded software and reset all of your passwords." Hermann's smile grows wicked. "If you ask nicely, I may even tell you what they are," he says.

Newt sputters for a moment then sobers. "This is about what happened at the UN."

"Yes, it is. I don't like someone with the resources of a government poking about in my life and those of my friends," he answers. "I suspect you won't mind, but I took the liberty of asking some associates to secure our records and take a look at our American friend."

"You need to let me peek at that black book of yours someday," Newt says.

"No, I don't."

"Uh ... so, what are they doing?" he asks a little nervously.

"They are locking down everything and anything they can reach. School reports, personnel dossiers, court files, medical records ... . I don't like the way a United Nations representative knew so much about supposedly secret actions and used them to directly threaten you. I'd prefer to starve him of information sources than face off against him, while he is fully-armed, in the press."

"What if your friends get caught?"

"They won't be."

"You seem pretty confident."

"I trust them with my life."

Newt's jaw drops. "That's serious coming from you. I _almost_ feel better that there are even more people poking around in my life now. Though now I'm totally fine with poking around in those hidden folders on your tablet," he says.

Hermann blinks forcefully. "Why am I not surprised at this revelation?"

"Well, don't get all ruffled," Newt replies as Hermann fixes him with a glare. "I couldn't get into all of them: only the ones with the pictures of Dietrich's daughters." He slaps a final sticker ('green') on an instrument tray and says, "C'mon, let's give this up for the day and go to sleep."

On returning, Newt flops, exhausted, onto the bed. "Dammit," he says, "we have a lot of stuff."

"Correction: **you** have a lot of stuff," Hermann responds. "Some of us are less burdened by material things."

"Well, the new house is big enough for everything." At Hermann's glower, Newt throws up his hands to shield himself. "Not that I'm bringing everything! I don't need all the lamps, for one. It's full of big windows and there's a huge deck for sunning yourself. There's an elevator for getting upstairs so you don't need to worry about stairs. We'll have to manage a bit of a hill down to the dock and the beach, but the yard is pretty flat and there are supposed to be nice breezes off the bay."

Thinking about the new house makes him tremble with excitement. The pictures he’s seen have been gorgeous and the deck perfect for the container garden he wants to start. _Some flowers_ , _maybe some vegetables_. _Ooo_. _Maybe they could put in a fruit tree or two_. He adds researching appropriate plants for the environment to his mental to-do list. _Maybe they could plant blackberries_. He misses those.

"Marvelous," Hermann's droll response shakes Newt out of his reverie. "You will still need to keep your samples off the floor in shared spaces," he continues, "I do not fancy slipping."

"The lab’s got non-slip floors. I picked the tiles out myself. All the slippery stuff will stay in there."

"I somehow doubt you will refrain from bringing work 'home' with you."

"Okay. Maybe just a little. But only the stuff that needs constant monitoring."

"Such as yourself."

"Don't lie. You enjoy that part," Newt replies, snuggling closer to his grumbling bedmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, I cut an instance of Newt sticking his foot in his mouth. It was a weird experience.
> 
> Tang Mǐn is an adorable OC Hong Kong Shatterdome barista I've borrowed from [artificiallifecreator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallifecreator/pseuds/artificiallifecreator). ALC also wrote most of the exchange about the coffee critter, with some minor edits from me.
> 
> I'm almost sorry for the sticker joke. But not really. Fun fact: I've never seen IASIP.


	24. French girls, feral children, gifts, and poker nights

Hermann eases into consciousness on his last full day with Newt in Hong Kong with a twinge of regret, which surprises him. Only two months ago he would’ve welcomed a week without Newt with party hats and streamers. Now, though …

He considers nipping that bud of regret as Newt, seated at the desk scribbling in a notepad, begins to hum tunelessly with the music in his head.

 _Perhaps I will appreciate a week of quiet after all_ , he thinks with a sigh as he rolls over and sits up.

Newt’s head pops up and he stares as Hermann stretches his arms and wings luxuriously. "No, dude! Can you lie back down like you were? I’m almost finished with this sketch, but I need another look at the angle between your wings and your shoulder."

"You were … drawing me?" Hermann asks with his voice rising in bewilderment.

Newt grins and replies, "Like one of my French girls." He cocks his head and takes on a contemplative expression. "Maybe I should buy you some excessively gaudy jewelry for your birthday. A necklace would probably look good on you," he continues. "Maybe not as good as a ring on your finger, but … good." Newt shakes his head forcefully as though to dislodge an idea. "Anyway, I’ve got a whole notebook full of you already."

Hermann blinks and gapes.

"You don’t believe me, do you?" Newt steps closer and peers into Hermann’s face from point blank range rendering himself a blur in Hermann’s eyes. "Your brain’s locked again, dude," Newt says. An affectionate smile pulls the corners of his mouth up. "Here. Flip through this while I get your meds," he says as he sets the notebook in Hermann’s lap.

While Newt rattles about in the bathroom, Hermann slowly turns the pages of the sketchbook. Owls. Anatomical diagrams. Pattern for the new binder. Wings. Eyes. Shoulders. Eyelashes. _My **cowlick**_.

 _He isn’t joking_ , Hermann realizes. _There are only a few pages left_. He carefully closes the cover and sets it to the side.

Newt appears beside him offering a glass of water and a handful of pills and watches Hermann sort them into proper order then swallow them in three handfuls, each with a gulp of water.

"So, are you properly flattered by being an artist’s model?" he asks.

"I’ll inform you when one adopts me as such," Hermann snarks.

Newt’s face crumples. "Okay. I know I’m not Van Gogh, but, ouch, dude, I’m not _that_ bad. You’ve seen my sketches before this. I do all the diagrams for my papers and my tattoos are based on stuff I’ve drawn."

“I said that without thinking. You really are quite skilled. Sometimes, I forget I am supposed to be openly kind to you now,” Hermann says with a crooked smile. “After five years sniping and inexpensive shots come too naturally.”

Newt laughs. “Yeah, same here. This is going to take some getting used to.”

While Newt checks his email, Hermann stands in front of the bathroom mirror and touches the back of his neck just below his hairline. _Damn_ , he thinks, _they’ve already regrown_. He sighs and retrieves a set of tweezers from the cabinet behind the mirror. Leaning his butt against the sink for support with a small mirror in one hand and the tweezers in the other. He takes a deep breath and clamps the tool around the root of one of the downy white feathers on his nape and tugs. The feather pops free and Hermann sets it aside for disposal.

Newt pokes his head through the door as Hermann grips a second feather. "What are you doing?" he asks. "Are you _plucking_ yourself?"

"Yes," Hermann hisses as he pulls the next feather loose and a drop of blood wells up at the point to which it had been attached.

Newt’s mouth opens and closes silently for a few seconds. "Dude, _why_?" he finally squeaks.

"Because these near my hairline show above my collar. The fabric also rubs against them most annoyingly," Hermann says and shrugs. "I’ve done this since I was a child."

"Uh. Do you need help?"

"Thank you, no. I can manage this on my own." A third feather comes free with a flinch.

"Sooo … you just yank them out?"

"Yes. From as close to the skin as I am able." A fourth disconnects with another spot of blood.

"You said you’d done this since you were a kid. Have you always had those feathers?"

Hermann hums in the affirmative as a fifth comes free.

"Hey. Did your feathers change over time? Were you all fluffy as a baby? Did those big, sexy flight feathers grow in at puberty?"

"In short, yes." He pulls a sixth loose. "I’m told I was, as you put it, ‘fluffy’ until I was three or four and _these_ ," he says as a seventh feather joins its companions on the edge of the sink, "have always been present. After that, I grew transitional immature feathers. My siblings say I looked half-plucked while the change occurred." Hermann requires two attempts to remove an eighth. "My adult plumage, you might say, grew in when I was twelve." He pauses after the ninth feather separates from his neck. "Before you ask, yes, I moult every summer."

"All the big feathers drop?" Newt asks and Hermann notes the other man’s calculating look with concern.

"They do, starting with those nearest my body and progressing toward the far edge."

"Exactly like an owl."

Hermann’s nod becomes a wince as he yanks a final feather. "That should take care of all the problematic ones," he says as he wipes the blood from his skin with a tissue.

"How often do you have to do that?"

"It’s necessary every week or so," he answers.

Newt pauses and leans against the doorframe. "Dude, now I know why my dad wouldn’t let me have a parrot. You guys require a lot of special care and grooming."

"I understand his concern. You are barely capable of grooming yourself," Hermann says with a smirk as he gathers up the loose feathers and pushes past Newt to add them to the others awaiting proper disposal in the back of his closet.

Newt blows a raspberry at Hermann’s back and Hermann waves a wing in a dismissive gesture.

He retrieves his binder and allows a clearly pleased Newt to step up beside him and help select his day’s outfit (black trousers, jacket, and shoes; ‘maroon’ jumper; and an ‘ivory’ shirt, all newly purchased in Geneva). When Newt clears his throat and reaches to undo his tightly buttoned collar, Hermann huffs a half-hearted protest, but makes no move to correct the fastening.

They’ve been in the lab only minutes when Newt, who should be preparing the final samples for cryogenic storage, ends the short interlude of silence. "I’m still thinking about fluffy baby Hermann,” he says. “Do you have any pictures of yourself as a kid?" he asks.

Hermann jumps at the question, having been fully absorbed in reading his email, before looking up and scowling.

"No. My family didn’t want to immortalize my existence. I was a deep, dark secret."

"You mean ‘my father didn’t want to immortalize my existence,’ right?" When Hermann doesn’t respond, Newt treats it as an affirmative. "I take it he doesn’t keep a picture of you in his office."

"He never has kept _any_ family pictures in his office. He is without sentiment. His wedding ring came off the day after Mother’s funeral. I’m not sure he kept it."

"Jesus Christ, that’s cold." Newt shivers for emphasis.

"She would’ve done the same. They never loved each other."

"Then why were they … ?"

"I don’t wish to discuss it further," Hermann says decisively and turns back to his computer.

Newt, characteristically, refuses to let the subject drop. "So, this is further evidence your dad is a total asshole," he says. "I ask again: Did he ever do right by you?"

Hermann ponders quietly for a moment before replying. "It was my father who insisted I be educated. My mother would have allowed me to grow up feral."

"Oh god. A _feral_ Hermann. With even fewer social skills.” Newt grins down at Hermann from where he has crossed the room to perch on the corner of the mathematician’s desk.

Hermann raises an eyebrow. "You’re one to talk."

"I _have_ social skills!" Newt yells, jumping back to his feet.

"You simply decide not to employ them, I’m sure," Hermann replies levelly.

"You’re not exactly Mister Suave either."

"That is a fact I readily admit, which is why I hope Mister Choi will handle most of the public relations for our new project."

"You think I’m going to give up a chance at the spotlight?"

"I am hoping against hope you will leave that burden to one more skilled and focus on your research."

"Well, keep hoping, dude. I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to want to talk with you or I. You know, the heroes,” he says with an enormous grin.

"Somehow, I believe they will prefer Miss Mori and Mister Becket."

"No way! We’re _much_ more interesting," Newt says with conviction.

"That is debatable.” He adds, “They are most definitely more attractive," to needle Newt’s vanity.

"Wrong again! How could anyone look away from beautiful specimens like us?" Newt beams. The corners of Hermann’s mouth turn down.

"For fuck’s sake,” Newt says as he throws his hands up in exasperation, “if you freak out every time I say ‘specimen’ we’re not going to get _any_ work done."

Hermann sighs. "You continue working and I’ll acquire some caffeine for us."

"Cool. Thanks, dude. Hurry back, but you’re not off the hook for the ‘specimen’ thing yet." Newt waves and strolls back to the remainder of his lab humming tunelessly.

Hermann trades warm smiles with Tang Mĭn as he steps to the counter at the coffee shop and places an order for himself and Newt. The young woman offers to help transport the drinks back to the science division and the two talk amiably as they stroll, with Hermann carrying Newt’s latte (complete with Trespasser-shaped foam) and Tang Mĭn handling a cappuccino and a thermos bottle of tea for him.

Newt thanks him for the mug, smiles at the kaiju, and allows his fingers to linger a half-beat longer than necessary on Hermann’s as he accepts the latte.

Tang Mĭn laughs and both scientists turn to look at her. "You two have changed so much. It used to be we would make the shortest straw come down here if we had to, and then it was only me and Officer Tse suggested I join the ... bet?"

"The 'who would kill whom when and where' pool?" asks Newt.

Tang Mĭn nods.

"Yeah, I should thank him for starting that. Who won, by the way?"

"No one," she answers. "The latest bet was for the New Year festival."

Hermann snorts into his beverage.

"But you're so different now! We wouldn't be surprised if you sleep together like kittens."

The men’s eyes meet and then drop to the floor. Hermann feels his face heat with a blush and sees Tang Mĭn’s wide grin in his peripheral vision.

She addresses him in Cantonese, shutting Newt out of the conversation. " _Really_ , _Doctor_? _Good for both of you_. _It’s about time you said something to him_."

Hermann looks up and asks, " _Am I that transparent_?"

" _No_ ," she replies, " _When you most often deal with incoherent people, you learn to extrapolate from very limited communication_."

He bows his head in deference. "Ah. I will miss you, Miss Yeung."

"Good," she replies. “I’ll be writing you about my linguistics paper, don’t forget.”

”You know, for an infamous misanthrope, you certainly can charm the youngsters,” Newt says from behind his coffee as Tang Mĭn vanishes down the hallway. “Not that I’m implying anything! Kids _like_ you and—what do you call people who aren’t kids anymore but are younger than we are?—whatever … those people listen and look up to you. It’s like you have magical kid-taming powers, dude.”

Hermann sniffs. “It’s probably because I have a younger brother. I’m used to interacting with people younger than myself.”

”It’s more than that. I think you’ve actually got charisma. I think I just missed it somehow.” Newt takes a thoughtful sip. “Or maybe they can see what a sweetheart you are under that prickly exterior.”

Hermann snorts and settles himself behind his desk again, hoping to actually finish his email before Newt finds another excuse to interrupt him.

He can’t help but listen as Newt digs through the last remaining pile of paperwork on his desk and emits a cry of triumph when he locates the object of his search. “Here. This is for you,” he says as he jogs over to Hermann, who saves a draft reply with a resigned noise. “I suck at wrapping things, so they’re naked.” He passes over two books.

“This is lovely,” Hermann says, running his fingers over the cover of a notebook embossed with a representation of the constellation Cygnus.

“So you don’t get sand in your tablet when you work from the beach. And it was the only one they had we’ll be able to see from the new place. No other reason. Really.” Newt holds his hands up to ward off disapproval, but Hermann only smiles at him. He visibly relaxes. “Check out the other one,” he chirps.

“Jacqueline McGlade. I’ve read many of her papers,” Hermann says as opens the cover to read the description the dust jacket flap.

“These are essays. I thought you’d like some light reading while I’m not around. And I know you like having actual pages to turn, you old-fashioned dork you,” Newt teases.

Hermann answers with a small smile, then looks down. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you,” he says sheepishly.

“No worries. I’m the primary earner in this household, after all,” he smirks.

Hermann sputters indignantly.

“Oh, don’t give me that. We both know better,” Newt says as he braces his hands on his hips. “You’ve been on military pay since 2014 and I can only assume you made pennies teaching before that. I got real money at MIT _and_ some of my patents are still generating income.” His mischievous grin widens. “Besides,” he goes on, “I know what the Ministry will pay each of us and, well, mine’s bigger.”

Hermann glares, then sighs. “Very well,” he says, “I no longer feel sorry about not having a gift for you.” He takes a sip of his cappuccino.

“Perfect. I’ll just expect you to put out later.”

Hermann nearly chokes on his drink and coughs violently to clear the liquid from his airway. Newt hovers nearby, hands flailing indecisively.

“Kidding! Just kidding! _Ohgodpleasedon’tdie_ ,” he exclaims.

“I’m not dying,” Hermann croaks when he regains his breath. “I would, however, ask you to refrain from comments like that where others can hear.”

Newt rolls his eyes. "Dude," Newt gestures at the door in a 'uh, duh', motion. " _Kittens_?"

“I suppose there's nothing for it then,” Hermann grudgingly responds.

“And, for the record,” Newt continues earnestly, “I was totally kidding. No pressure. We’ll get to the ‘putting out’ point if and when you want to, okay? You’re in control.”

“Thank you,” Hermann says and gives Newt’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Hey! Public display of affection! Progress!”

Hermann sighs, retracts his hand, and opens his new book, looking away from Newt in the process. _Infuriating little man_ , he thinks.

Newt parks himself on the edge of Hermann’s desk again and the mathematician reaches, without looking away from his book, to rescue the thermos Newt nearly knocks off the surface.

“You remember I’m not going to have phone or internet service for a couple of days, right?” Newt prompts. “There’s something wrong with the satellite connection or something.”

Hermann continues reading. “I’m aware of the issue. I worry that you will be bored enough to cause yourself accidental harm.

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much,” Newt huffs. “Besides, there will be contractors there during the day, at least.”

“They will hopefully keep you away from sharp tool and heavy objects as I’ve suggested.”

“You seriously called the builders and told them to babysit me.”

“Someone has to.” Hermann turns a page.

Newt flips him off with a grin. “Yeah, we’ll just see how well that will work.”

Hermann snorts, sets down the book, and turns to his chalkboards, nearly the only item left on his side of the lab. He picks up chalk, taps it against the board twice to orient himself, and begins writing a new row of equations, the start of a possible method for predicting a future re-opening of the Breach.

"Freeze, Hermann!" Newt yells. "Don't move!" He scoots Hermann's ladder into position next to the mathematician. He holds a measuring tape up next to Hermann's raised hand and drops the free end to the floor. He makes note of the measurement and retracts the tape. "Okay. You can move again," he says.

"Do I want to know what that was about?" Hermann asks as he picks up writing where he left off.

"Probably. I'm fitting you for custom office furniture for the new lab." Hermann blinks in confusion. "Look, it's kinda hard to explain. You'll see it when you get there."

 _This will certainly end poorly_ , he thinks as he finishes a line and begins the next.

After the pair retire to their quarters for the evening, Hermann hunches over his desk annotating the most recent environmental survey of their soon-to-be-occupied island while Newt kills time before the final Shatterdome poker night. Hermann can’t be certain, but Newt seems to be sketching again.

 _Ignore him_ , Hermann tells himself and shifts his wing to block most of Newt’s view of his body. From the the other side of the room he hears a quiet, frustrated noise.

”You sure you don’t want to join us at the game?” Newt asks. The bed creaks as he stands up and his back pops as he stretches.

”The Marshal banned me from them years ago,” Hermann replies. “I am also very comfortable here.” He lowers his wings and glances over one at Newt.

”Oh. Right,” Newt says quietly. As he leaves Newt runs his warm fingers through the down along Hermann's spine ending the motion between his shoulder blades, gently parting the feathers and brushing his skin. Hermann shivers and growls a reminder to Newt how little he appreciates that particular type of physical contact.

Hermann hears Newt's defiant snort the instant before the man repeats the action, this time dragging his fingertips from from Hermann's hairline to the small of his back. He shudders again, arms coming out in goosebumps as his wings flare. He snarls again and Newt waves and laughs as he saunters out the door.

 _Infuriating little man_ , he reminds himself. _My infuriating little man_. He smiles and the astonished, warm feeling which invades his heart when he thinks of Newt surfaces. He shuts down the reader on his tablet with a sigh and closes his eyes. _My little man_ , he thinks again.

He bows his head and passes his hand over the same feathers Newt touched earlier, tickling the very tips like a gentle breeze. His wings open and shift, seeking lift, and his stomach flutters.

Newt returns, somewhat worse for wear and with emptier pockets, long after Hermann finishes his shower and makes himself comfortable reading in bed. “Well, that went about as well as expected,” he mumbles as he flops onto the mattress. “They’re still playing and I’m broke and already have a _killer_ headache. You need to teach me to count cards. Or something.”

Hermann looks down at him affectionately. “Get up and change for sleep while I fetch some water and aspirin for you.” He shoves the smaller man’s shoulder gently until Newt groans and shifts himself off the mattress.

When Hermann shuffles back from the bathroom, Newt has stripped to his boxers and a battered t-shirt with a _Striker Eureka_ logo on the chest. Hermann blinks at the outfit. _That’s_ my _shirt_ , he realizes. _He’s borrowing my clothes now_.

Hermann shrugs and pushes the glass and pills into Newt’s hands as the man sits at the desk cradling his head in his hands. He takes both without protest and downs them quickly before folding onto the desk with his head resting on his arms.

”You really should know better than to do things like this, Newt,” Hermann says gently as he rubs soft circles across Newt’s shoulders. “Especially when you have to travel in the morning.”

Newt responds with an unintelligible sound, but his muscles begin to relax.

Recognizing he’s done as much as he can for his … partner, Hermann pushes the wheeled chair to the edge of the bed so Newt has only to roll himself into place. Satisfied Newt will not fall off the mattress, Hermann returns the chair to its proper place, flicks off the lights, and lightly crawls over the other man, who is already snoring deeply.

Hermann dozes off feeling the warmth from Newt’s body where he has burrowed under his outstretched wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by Wire’s _154_ , specifically “Map Ref. 41 N 93 W.”
> 
> Yeung Tang Mĭn belongs to artificiallifecreator. You’ll see more of this cool OC in alc’s upcoming works. She’s also got another cameo or two in my writing coming up.
> 
> Jacqueline McGlade is a leading scientist in the field of environmental informatics, which applies mathematical principles to complex natural systems. Just the sort of techniques Hermann needs for his new job.
> 
> Some of the language in the middle, around the poker game section, might look familiar. It would be a direct copy of the SFW section of the NSFW sidefic “Touch.” That fic is what happens in the gap between Newt leaving and returning to the room. For those who don’t want NSFW content, you totally don’t need to read it to follow the main story. The take-home point is that Hermann is at least as attracted to Newt as Newt is to Hermann. But that’s probably pretty clear from the SFW stories. XD
> 
> Speaking of NSFW, the Newt portion of the NSFW action, "Sparks," actually takes place on the morning of this day, before Hermann wakes up. That's why our favorite biologist is already at the desk and sketching when Hermann finally drags himself to consciousness. The same rule applies to this one, if you don't want NSFW content, just skip that story with no penalties to understanding.
> 
> That's going to be my policy going forward. This story stays Gen (hugging, hand-holding, cuddles, kisses, maybe some a _little_ making out) and anything with a higher rating for sexual content will be handled in sidefics. If plot points happen on the side, I'll make sure they're mentioned in this story so everyone stays on the same page.


	25. Ghosts, an exorcism, and shepherding

Hermann wakes in Zürich, in the sparsely furnished flat he took when he started work at the Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule, a flat he left for the last time over a decade earlier.  
  
He rubs his eyes to clear them of sleep.  
  
 _Not Zürich_. _**Hong Kong**_. _This is Hong Kong_.  
  
 _For one more day_ , _this is home_.  
  
His hand rests on the cool, empty space beside him. He smiles, then shakes his head and pushes himself out of bed and into the bathroom.  
  
Hermann studies his reflection and scratches the ghost of his binding. He flexes his wings as he reaches for his morning medications. _No need to rush today_. After a leisurely shower and carefully brushing and flossing his teeth, he limps to his nearly empty closet for the day’s clothing.  
  
The familiar sweatervests, shirts, and wool trousers are gone; Newt and Tendo having been true to their word and destroying them at the first opportunity. They’d even made s’mores, reminding Hermann he dislikes marshmallows. Still, the memory of pure joy on everyone’s faces makes him smile.  
  
His smile fades as he tightens his binding and feels the first itch of his annual moult. _Wonderful_. _At least I’ll be somewhere secluded while it happens this year_. He shivers. _Maybe the new preening routine will help_ , _as well_.  
  
Only a skeleton crew of PPDC personnel remain, far outnumbered by new faces in municipal uniforms preparing to demolish parts of the Shatterdome while converting others to a memorial museum, city emergency response offices, and a typhoon shelter of last resort. In this crowd, he attracts only mild attention and that for being one of the few foreigners at the station.   
  
The ‘Dome bustles, but it’s an unfamiliar, uncomfortable bustle and Hermann retreats to the roof for solitude. He heads for the place where he and Newt picnicked.  
  
He forgoes his coat to enjoy the warm spring air. He leans on the safety rail, cane hooked beside him, and idly watches the waves stirred up by boat traffic and the breeze off the ocean. Concentrating, Hermann closes his eyes and tries to memorize the qualities of the wind, unique to Hong Kong, and what it feels like in his feathers.  
  
Hermann hears footsteps long before Tendo materializes beside him offering a steaming mug of coffee. Hermann accepts and drinks. “Perfect, as usual. Thank you,” he says.  
  
Tendo nods. “So, this is your secret make-out spot, right?”  
  
Hermann gapes at him, horrified.  
  
“Security may not know about this gap, but I sure do,” Tendo chuckles. “Needed a place to sneak a smoke where Mako couldn’t find me.”  
  
Hermann snorts. “I was unaware this area was unsurveilled.”  
  
“Riiiiiight,” Tendo drawls. “There are actually three security holes, but this one has the best view.” Tendo smirks before taking a contemplative drink. “This is like old times, huh?”  
  
Hermann quirks an eyebrow.  
  
“You at a railing watching the water while I deliver some of my personal coffee stash to you.” He sips. “Seeing Raleigh happy again really brings Anchorage back, doesn’t it? When we all thought this would be easy?”  
  
Hermann offers a noncommittal sound. “We were all young and foolish then. Now, though, there’s some hope for a simpler and brighter future.”  
  
“Yeah. For the first time I’m not worried about a giant alien sea monster killing Felix before he makes puberty."  
  
“I cannot begin to imagine what it was like raising a child under those conditions.”  
  
Tendo shrugs. “You love ‘em and do the best you can. And try to make the place safe and happy for them.”  
  
“I do believe we made large strides toward that,” Hermann replies with a crooked smile.  
  
“A- **men** , brother. Hopefully the Kaiju are gone for good.”  
  
“I doubt we destroyed them completely, but perhaps we have made another attempt too costly.”  
  
“ _Deo volente_ ,” Tendo murmurs and kisses the rosary around his wrist. At Hermann’s inquisitive expression, he responds, “Latin for ‘god willing.’ Picked up some basic phrases in Catholic primary school.”  
  
Hermann sips and hums.  
  
“You ready for this?” Tendo prompts after a moment’s silence.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Newt twenty-four, seven.”  
  
Hermann shrugs. “How do you think I’ve spent the last five years?”  
  
Tendo chuckles. “Good point. It’s probably going to be harder for you to deal with the lack of Kaiju than living with each other. Togetherness looks good on both of you.” He laughs again. “We had to cancel the ‘justifiable homicide’ pool, you know.”  
  
“I heard,” Hermann remarks dryly.  
  
“Eh. They refunded my money and I set it aside for the bridal registry. You two still thinking July?” Tendo asks with twinkling eyes.  
  
Hermann treats him to the full force of his glare.  
  
Tendo holds up his hands in surrender. “You **know** I’m kidding, Hermann.” He swallows a mouthful of coffee. “It’s been killing me, so I have to ask. What’s it like suddenly having another lifetime’s worth of memories in your head? I talked to the Beckets about it in Anchorage, but they already had so many in common, it didn’t feel like much to them to share. You and Newt, though … ”  
  
“I try to ignore what passed from Newt to myself and keep his memories isolated from mine. I have no business knowing what he hasn’t seen fit to tell me.”  
  
Tendo smirks. “Figure he feels the same way?”  
  
“Of course he doesn’t. He’s already admitted he regularly peruses my memories.”  
  
“Shamelessly, too, right?”  
  
Hermann nods and sighs.  
  
“No desire to level the playing field, then?”  
  
Hermann shakes his head.  
  
“No curiosity?”  
  
Hermann sighs again. “Naturally I’m curious. It, however, wouldn’t be appropriate to … root around in Newt’s memories.”  
  
“You mean you haven’t seen a thing from inside his head? Not even a little, tiny, itty-bitty peek?”  
  
“I will occasionally experience a flash of imagery and emotion—like a daydream—which is not my own.”  
  
“That’s it? You’re leaving it at that?”  
  
Hermann tightens his grip on the railing. “Of course I am!”  
  
“If you’re not bullshitting me, my man, that’s **impressive**. I can’t think of anyone else with that kind of restraint.”  
  
Hermann huffs and turns back to the harbor.  
  
“Really, you’d make the worst spy **ever**. Too much respect for privacy. Which I suppose makes sense, considering … ”   
  
Hermann stiffens and his knuckles turn white. “Considering what?”  
  
“Considering getting you to talk about yourself is like pulling teeth.”  
  
Hermann hides a nervous laugh with drink of coffee, then smiles at his friend.  
  
“I need to go and tie up some loose ends,” Tendo calls as he turns and waves. “Enjoy the view, brother!”  
  
Hermann waves back before turning his eyes to the harbor to watch floating cranes lifting pieces of _Crimson Typhoon_ from the water. A series of buoys mark the location of _Cherno Alpha_ for the Russian salvage crews’ arrival next week.  
  
 _We’re remnants of past those in power want to forget_. _No_ , _they don't want to be rid of all of us_. _Only those fighters who survived_.  
  
 _We are bad memories_.  
  
He scrubs his face.  
  
 _Bad memories_. _Like those I’ve forced onto Newt_.   
  
_I hope he finds only the few positive ones I held_. _He deserves better than the rest_.  
  
A fierce swipe removes the tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he squares his shoulders. He seizes his cane and makes his slow way back to his—their—lab for a last time.  
  
From the top of his ladder, Hermann wipes the chalkboard clean with a damp cloth. The ghosts of five years worth of equations and code disappear in wide black stripes.  
  
 _As though they never existed_. _Only an absence_ — _the lack of the Breach_ — _indicates they ever existed or mattered at all_. _Even that will be forgotten soon enough_.  
  
When he finishes, the boards are a pristine midnight black. Hermann takes a deep breath and turns his back to his now-former workspace. He turns out the lights, walks to the door, and locks it.   
  
Hermann doesn’t look back.  
  
His phone chimes as soon as he drapes his binder over the back of his desk chair. He flexes his wings through their full motion as checks his voicemail, then selects a name from his contacts list.  
  
“Oh my god! Are the Kaiju back?”  
  
“What? Karla, what are you talking about?” Hermann sputters.  
  
“You never call,” she chides, “so I thought it might be the end of the world.”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not the apocalypse. I’m leaving for New Zealand tomorrow—”  
  
“And you want to say ‘goodbye’ before you abandon civilization.”  
  
“ … Yes.”  
  
“Well, not before I talk to my little brother for a bit,” she declares. “The kids have been cranky for two weeks straight now, you know. They’re jealous their cousins got to see you in the flesh.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Karla. I don’t want to make your life more difficult.”  
  
“Oh be quiet, Manny. I understand you can’t travel just anywhere and everywhere. I’m honestly surprised you escaped Europe.”  
  
“Thank goodness for military transport,” Hermann sighs.  
  
“You’re going to be trapped on that island of yours. You can’t fly.”  
  
“No, I can’t. I’ll probably die there.”  
  
“You’ll grow old first. Very old.”  
  
“God and genetics willing.”  
  
“It’s the same for all of us, Hermann,” she says gently.  
  
They chat for a few more minutes before Karla disconnects to return to work.  
  
He flips the phone over and over in his hands. Bastien is in class. Dietrich is with patients. Newt … His phone is still not working. Instead of leaving messages, he stows the phone in his coat pocket and eases himself out of his chair.  
  
His last personal items find their places in his luggage. He swallows his evening pills. He changes into his pajamas and packs the clothes he’d been wearing in his suitcase. All that remains unpacked is an outfit for the journey and the supplies he needs for the morning.  
  
Hermann runs his hand along the surface of the desk, then fiddles with the chain on his glasses, then plucks lint off the military-issue blanket and scratchy sheets. He reads for a while, first more texts on environmental modeling (mostly review), then the newest round of papers on Breach physics (mostly trash), the fan-translation of _Kaiju in Film History_ Newt downloaded to his tablet, and finally the book Miss Yeung and the staff had given him. Eventually he gives up and stares at the ceiling.  
  
 _Perhaps I’ll be able to sleep on the flight_.  
  
It requires several hours of lying still and counting sheep before Hermann finds sleep. When he finally dreams, he feels warm breezes and sees warm colors.  
  
And Newt waving from a sandy beach.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A 'thank you' to Gothams_Only_Wolf for giving me the kickstart to finally finishing this one.


	26. Grass, tangled in blues, and cross examinations

Newt jerks awake and squints.  
  
 _Damn, it’s bright_. _Who turned on the li_ —  
  
 _The sun_. _It’s the **sun**_. _Forgot to close the curtains_. He grins so widely his cheeks hurt. _We have a bedroom with **windows**_.  
  
His smile evaporates when he looks at the empty spot next to him in the bed.  
  
 _I’m not gonna worry_. _Twelve hours late isn’t **so** much on a trip like this_. _There was probably a delay getting out of Hong Kong_. _Weather there **sucks** this time of year_. _**Nuh** thing to worry about_.  
  
He runs his hands through his hair, jams on his glasses, and throws himself out of bed.  
  
 _Dammit, why can’t the phones be **working**_? _They **were** connected two days ago, but there’s some sort of ‘problem’ with the relay tower near town and they're down again_. **_Perfect_**.  
  
Newt digs into a mostly-unpacked box and pulls out an old Black Velvet Rabbits t-shirt which passes the sniff test and yanks it on before shimmying into yesterday’s jeans. After a stop at the bathroom to swallow his meds, he pads barefoot down the stairs and out the back door and buries his toes in the grass of the lawn.  
  
 _This is the first lawn I’ve had since **Boston** ‘cuz that city park grass which might as well be carpet doesn’t count_. _That was, what, ten years ago_? _Huh_. _Time flies when you’re saving the world_.  
  
He flops onto the greenery with a sigh.  
  
 _God, the sun feels **good**_.  
  
The warmth soaks into his skin.  
  
 _Where the hell is Hermann_?  
  
Newt’s eyelid twitches as he levers himself up and heads for the kitchen. He locates a clean bowl in a box and fills it with his favorite cereal, stowing the rest of them in a cupboard. He retreats outside with the food and perches on the deck rail to watch the last of the contractors leveling paths and listen to others putting up the typhoon shutters.  
  
 _When they finish today, they’re outta here and I’ll be alone_. _Unless **Hermann** shows up_. **_Finally_**.  
  
The empty bowl goes into the sink to be dealt with later. Newt stretches his arms over his head until his shoulders and back pop noisily. Further unpacking lacks appeal, so he swaps his clothes for his painting gear and moseys to the last area needing new color: his lab.  
  
"Here, brush-brush-brush," he singsongs. He finds it under a worktable and nearly gets stuck flattening himself to reach it. The paint is easier to locate and Newt only scrapes his knuckles twice getting it open.  
  
 _ **Fuck**_. _What if he changed his mind_? _He’s had a week without me to reconsider_. _Maybe he’s decided he likes it better alone after all_. _It’s not like he could **tell me** with all the connections out_.  
  
Newt slaps the paintbrush against the wall and drags it across the surface. Sky blue eclipses the original white. He pauses, staring, and the paint drips.  
  
 _What if he’s on a plane to **Oxford** right now_ , _instead of here_? _It would be **just** like the **asshole** not to tell me he’s changed his mind_. _‘ **Ooo** , Geiszler’s getting too **close**_! _Better disappear **again**_! _Leave him twisting in the breeze_. _He’ll be **fiiiiine**_!’  
  
Newt growls from the back of his throat as the blue droplets hit the floor and splatter.  
  
 _ **Calm** down_. _Calm **the fuck** down_.  
  
He forces himself to take a deep breath and set down the brush.  
  
 _Hermann wouldn’t do that_. _When he makes a promise he **keeps** it_.  
  
Newt sucks another lungful of air.  
  
 _There must be a snag in the travel plans_. _It’s not like he **can** call, or text, or email right now_. _Not until **the stupid connections start working**_.  
  
He closes his eyes and inhales again.  
  
 _He’ll be here_. _He **will**_.  
  
Newt sighs and continues painting.  
  
After he finishes the lab wall, Newt crafts a sandwich, grabs a bottle of water, and sets out to explore the island.  
  
He follows a path down the hillside toward the trees which surround the house and garden. At a fork, he tosses a stick in the air and turns the direction it points.  
  
The trail winds between trees and small pools formed by the previous day’s storm. The air smells rich and green and birds chirp from all sides. Newt hears the ocean coming closer and the path opens up to a cove ringed by a rocky beach.  
  
 _Ooo_! _A waterfall_! _Not much of a one—could probably get as much flow from the hose—but it’s a **waterfall** and it’s **ours**_.  
  
 _ **If** he’s still coming_.  
  
Newt sits on a rock overhanging the cove, swinging his feet. He nibbles at his food. The spot is beautiful, but the water’s color is subtly wrong: Kaiju instead of ocean blue.  
  
 _Maybe he changed his mind because of something I did_. _I **can** be a **bit** of an asshole_. _Not that he didn’t already know that_. _I haven’t changed all **that** much over the years_. _Have I_?  
  
Newt lingers until sunset, when he hears shouting from near the house. He flies up the path, arriving covered in sweat and wheezing.  
  
" **What**? What’s happening?" A worker passes him the satellite phone and it crackles to life in his hand.  
  
" **Incoming**!" Tendo chimes from the earpiece. "We’ll be there in five minutes, so brace yourself."  
  
Newt’s jaw works wordlessly as he shoves the phone back into the contractor’s hands and takes off toward the dock in a graceless run. He skids to a halt at the end of the wooden pier as the boat clears the horizon.  
  
He bounces on his toes for the interminable minutes the boat requires to close the gap to the island.  
  
" **Oh**! **My**! **God**! **Where** have you **been**?" Newt yelps as soon as the engine stops. "I thought your plane crashed or got hijacked or something, dude!"  
  
Hermann rolls his eyes as a crewman nudges Newt away the mooring lines. "Yesterday’s weather trapped us in Sydney. Mister Choi and I had to share a hotel room." He grimaces. "How Alison sleeps through your snoring I have no idea."  
  
"Aww, she finds it adorable, like she does the rest of me," Tendo replies. "Speaking of which, let’s get your stuff stowed, Hermann, so me and the rest of the guys can get on to town. My magnificent family is waiting."  
  
"Then let’s get going. Gimme your hand." Newt reaches across the space between the boat and the dock.  
  
Hermann eyes the proffered appendage skeptically but stretches to take it.  
  
Newt tugs Hermann’s arm gently to catches him with a smothering hug. "Welcome home, dude," he whispers into Hermann’s ear.  
  
Hermann huffs in response and pulls away.  
  
"Screw that." Newt hops up onto his tiptoes and gives Hermann a quick kiss on the lips, eliciting a rosy blush from the other man.  
  
Tendo makes a gagging noise as he steps next to them.  
  
Newt sticks out his tongue as he threads his fingers through Hermann’s. "You’re just jealous."  
  
"I like you both, but I think I win in the life-partnership sweepstakes," Tendo responds with a smirk. "We ready to go, brothers?" He swings Hermann’s suitcases and takes a few steps toward shore.  
  
Hermann nods and nearly doubles over his cane as he takes a first step.  
  
Newt drops Hermann’s hand to take his arm. "Lean on me. You probably need more help than the cane after all the time cramped. It’s a little hike up to the house."  
  
Hermann grumbles but allows Newt to take much of his weight.  
  
"Did you get seasick on the trip over? I must’ve puked like eighteen times. I had no **idea** I got seasick," Newt babbles, supporting and guiding Hermann up the cobbled path to the house.  
  
Tendo deposits the suitcases inside the door, says a quick goodbye, and retreats hastily to the boat, leaving Newt and Hermann on their own.  
  
"What did you do to yourself while we were apart?" Hermann asks with a quirked eyebrow.  
  
"What? Oh! Band-aids. Yeah," Newt says as he rubs the one stuck to his forehead, "I wasn’t allowed to touch a hammer after Tuesday. I’ve been painting since then."  
  
"Which explains your new freckles."  
  
"You know how many freckles I have. How do you know how many freckles I have?"  
  
"I count everything."  
  
Newt gapes. "Duuuude ... "  
  
Hermann sighs. "The paint is a very different shade from your natural coloration."  
  
"They’re probably blue, actually. I painted my lab—" Newt’s voice seizes in his throat as Hermann caresses the back of his hand with a thumb.  
  
"Newt, I believe I should retire for the evening. I did not sleep well last night."  
  
"Wait. You had to share a room?" Newt blinks as Hermann nods. "So you’ve been tied up nearly … **forty-eight hours**! Holy **shit**! We’ll do the tour tomorrow. Let’s get you to the bedroom and undressed."  
  
"Thank you." Hermann’s shoulders slump as they climb the stairs to the second floor.  
  
Newt flutters about as Hermann peels off his outer layers, finally taking over as Hermann struggles with the final buttons of his shirt. Newt unfastens the binder restricting Hermann’s wings and tosses the garment aside.  
  
Hermann holds his breath as he opens his wings and slowly flexes them. He exhales as he folds them loosely against his back and sighs as he eases his legs out of his trousers.  
  
Newt freezes as his eyes glide over Hermann’s damaged right knee, his first chance to examine it clearly.  
  
"Jesus," he breathes. "It’s been like this since you were **seven**? You live with this? You **walk** on this? You’ve **climbed ladders** on this?"  
  
Hermann’s words slur. "Newt, I need to sleep."  
  
"God, Hermann. I **knew** it was **bad** but this … **this** is capital-b **Bad**."  
  
"I will not talk about my leg tonight."  
  
"Is **any** part of it **not** fucked up?"  
  
" **Newton**. Leave it."  
  
Newt gently brushes his fingers over the scars.  
  
Hermann shivers, makes a displeased noise, and swats Newt’s hand away.  
  
" … broken patella, all of these exterior ligaments torn, broken tibia … I’m amazed you didn’t trash the growth plate … How did this feel?"  
  
"I’m certain you have the memory, Newton. Why don’t you experience it and find out for yourself?" Hermann growls.  
  
Newt startles. "I couldn’t. I tried and I couldn’t."  
  
Hermann hisses as he pulls up his pajamas, "Not as brave as you think? Have we **finally** found something at which I am better than you?"  
  
"Fuck you, Hermann! Turn an attempt to sympathize into an insult, won’t you!"  
  
" **Sympathize**! You have no idea what my life has been!" He opens his wings wide.  
  
Newt spreads his arms in frustration. "Maybe because you never talk about it!"  
  
"You should accustom yourself to my silence, then! I have no intention of sharing my entire life story with you! Certainly not beginning now!" Hermann grabs his cane and lurches to his feet. He pushes past Newt and into the hallway.  
  
Newt pursues. "I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, Hermann, and I can’t know if you don’t tell me!"  
  
"Have you stopped to consider that may be the way I prefer it? That, perhaps, I do not want or need your help?" Hermann throws over his shoulder.  
  
"Dude, you **clearly** need my help! You couldn’t even **undress** yourself tonight! Why can’t you admit it?"  
  
Hermann turns to face him and forces himself to stand as straight as he can. "I am completely capable of taking care of myself and I most certainly don’t need your pity. Goodnight, Newton." He steps through the door of the guest bedroom and swings it closed.  
  
The lock clicks, stranding Newt in the hall.  
  
"Unlock the door, Hermann! We’re **finishing** this **right now**!"  
  
"We **have** finished! Good **night** , **Newton**!"  
  
" **No** , dude! We **need** to talk!"  
  
"No. We. Don’t."  
  
"Hermann, **please** open the door."  
  
There’s no response.  
  
Newt lingers, listening to Hermann’s slow, shuffling steps until he hears the mattress creaks under the other man’s weight.  
  
He retraces the path to the master suite and throws himself onto the too-big, too-cold bed.  
  
 _Well that **sucked**_.  
  
Newt leaves the light on. The sticker constellations on the ceiling would keep him awake.


	27. Murder, manhandling, entourages, and north stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read artificiallifecreator's "[Red-China-Copper-Break](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1853824)" before starting this chapter. It is the first part of the chapter and it's integral. When you're finished with it, come back.

" **Newton**!"

Newt feels a strong hand on his shoulder and he strikes something solid and warm with a flailing arm. He blinks sleep from his eyes. " **Hermann**?! **You're alive**!" He presses his palm flat against Hermann's chest.

"You were having a nightmare. Your screams woke me."

"You were **dead**! Something killed you!" Newt grabs Hermann in a crushing hug. "I think I might’ve killed you," he mumbles against Hermann’s collarbone.

"I'm not hurt. It was only a dream."

"Yeah. **Fuck**. Thank **god**."

Hermann’s wings droop. "I’m afraid I may have infected you with my predisposition to nightmares in our Drift."

Newt’s breathing finally slows and he releases his grip. "Nah. I’ve had nightmares all my life. Just don’t normally find my significant other dead." He looks up at Hermann. "We’re still that, right? Significant others?"

"I thought your label for me was ‘boyfriend.’"

"So … we’re still on? Together?"

Hermann rolls his eyes. "As if one more argument after a decade of arguments makes much difference. I needed sleep last night, which I could not get while you badgered me about my leg."

"Oh." Newt grins and his tone turns teasing. "And you were cranky."

"You ignored my requests and my patience with your nonsense was severely limited."

"You were cranky."

The muscles along Hermann’s jaw tighten. "You, as usual, didn’t listen to me. We could’ve slept in peace if you’d dropped it when I asked."

"I was so excited to see you again, I couldn’t stop talking. You know how I get." Newt shrugs.

"I do. You’ve been keeping up with your meds? Sleeping enough?"

Newt tugs at the neck of his t-shirt. "I’ve been behaving," he pouts, "and I slept well enough except for last night. You?"

"I slept like the dead until you disturbed me."

"Well, **excuse** me for being attacked by my subconscious. **Maybe** if you’d let me finish our conversation last night, I would’ve been able to sleep peacefully."

"Newton, I was in no shape to converse last night. I barely am this morning." He rubs his bad knee.

"You should’ve said something," Newt huffs.

"I **did**. You ignored me in favor of nattering on."

"I did?"

Hermann sighs and starts to rise. "You did. Since you seem your approximation of normal again, I’ll return to my bed."

Newt grabs Hermann’s wrist and tugs him back to sit on the mattress. " **This** is your bed, Hermann."

Hermann holds up a trembling hand to protest.

"Have you taken your medications?" Newt interrupts. "I haven’t had mine yet this morning. You stay **right there** and I’ll get them for you."

Newt pops to his feet and shoves Hermann hard enough to tip him onto his back, squawking indignantly and wings flapping in a futile attempt to remain upright.

Hermann sits up as Newt returns with his medication and a glass of water. After he swallows them, Hermann scowls. "I do not appreciate being manhandled like that."

"Desperate times, dude," Newt says lightly.

"There is nothing desperate about my making a minimal effort to care for myself." Hermann lowers his voice. "You may also inadvertently cause me injury if I’m unable to catch myself."

Newt’s mouth drops open. "Oh, shit," he eventually whispers. "Hermann … I’m sorry. You’re not … you’re not like other … uh … partners I’ve had."

"I’m not." Hermann twists a wing to touch Newt with a primary feather before folding it tightly against his back. "You cannot act as though I am."

"I don’t want to hurt you."

"I’m not made of china, Newt," Hermann says and Newt pales, "but I must be careful."

"Yeah. **Yeah**. Me, too." Newt catches Hermann’s eye. "Please let me help you, Hermann," he says earnestly.

Hermann stiffens. "As I’ve said before, I don’t need your pity, Newton."

"It’s **not** pity. It’s … "

"Guilt?"

" **No**!" He gestures wildly. "Jesus, Hermann! I want to help. I want to make your life easier, okay? Just because I do. No strings."

Hermann blinks. "Why is it worth it to you?"

Newt blinks. "Because … because it is, dude." He runs his fingers through his hair. "You hungry? I’m hungry. Want some breakfast? I’ll cook?" He offers a hand to help Hermann to his feet.

Hermann levers himself up with his cane. "I need to dress."

"What? Why? There’s no one else here."

The sounds of hammering and a motorized drill drift through the window.

Hermann raises an eyebrow.

Newt groans. "Typhoon shutters. They must not’ve finished yesterday."

"I’ll dress."

"Yeah," Newt sighs as he drags his eyes over Hermann’s wings. "Meet you downstairs?"

In the kitchen, Newt assembles the stash of oranges and apples in a bowl he settles in the center of the table on his way to reclaim his tablet from the main lab.

He discovers a series of recipes bookmarked in the browser. Newt chuckles. "Someone’s feeling helpful." He freezes and stares at the screen. "Someone broke into my tablet. Correction: Someone **else** broke into my tablet. Someone Hermann trusts broke into my tablet." He shrugs.

He skims the instructions for lemon rolls. "Too hard." He dismisses pancakes and adds baking powder to his shopping list. The crepe recipe results in an eye roll.

A pile of toast and an omelet wait on the table when Hermann, bound and wearing a new sweater and shirt, limps into the dining area.

"Looking good, dude," Newt remarks, waving a hand toward Hermann’s open collar. "You found the kitchen okay."

Hermann eases into the chair nearest the food. "I followed the unmistakable smell of smoke."

"That’s on the toaster, not me. I set it to five, put bread in and—boom!—came out burnt. Six toast, at least." He sets down a pot of tea.

Hermann inhales deeply. "Earl Grey."

"Hot." Newt grins. "It’s the good stuff from Hong Kong. Tim and her terrifying friends insisted I take some for you."

"Tang Mǐn." Hermann punctuates the correction with a bite of toast. He sips his tea and scrunches up his nose. "Marvin the timer is upstairs in my luggage. I’ll bring him down later."

"You and your ability to gather an entourage of frightening children … " Newt smiles and shakes his head.

Hermann finishes his breakfast then absently peels an orange while staring out the nearest window.

"Want a tour?" Newt prompts. At Hermann’s nod, he asks, "Before or after you finish the orange?"

By way of answer, Hermann sets the citrus aside and pushes to his feet.

Newt leads the way into the next room, the largest in the house. "This is my lab. I’m going to fill it with plants and growth tanks for algae and plankton." He directs Hermann’s view to the floor. "I had the contractors raise the paths and put in the grating to keep them drier. And safer."

They wind their way between the empty tables to a second room. "This is your space. Cork floor so it’s easier on your feet. And, see? Pocket doors in case you want to shut me out sometimes."

Hermann smirks and reaches for the handle.

"Hey! Not yet!" Newt squeaks.

Relenting with a snort, Hermann steps into the room. Chalkboards cover most of the walls to the top of Hermann’s reach. Bookshelves of the same height occupy the remaining space.

"Don't trust me with a ladder, do you?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Not trying to cramp your style too badly, dude, but I **really** don't want to set another bone. You should have plenty of room to math with this. We'll get you a free-standing chalkboard if you need more space."

"You’ve added a couch."

"In case you want to relax a bit while you read."

Hermann raises an eyebrow but remains silent.

Newt grins. "Check this out!" He steps through a sliding door onto a broad deck. "Plenty of space for a container garden and isn’t the view **awesome**? Nothing but ocean off the beach. No one to watch us sunbathe."

Hermann snorts and leans on the railing.

"Of course, we’ll have to clean some Blue-contaminated gunk off the rocks first."

Hermann straightens and frowns.

"You … you can’t see the difference, can you? Between the normal ocean goo and the poisonous stuff?"

"I will learn."

"Until then, don’t turn over any rocks or go wading without me, okay?"

"I should be able to restrain myself."

"Good. If that stuff is anything like what we had off Lima, it’ll remove the fingerprints from your fingers in twenty minutes. I haven’t gotten down there to test it yet. Better safe than sorry."

Hermann nods and shifts his weight from his damaged leg more firmly onto his cane.

Newt links their arms and tows Hermann back toward his office. "How about you test drive couch? You’ve probably got a ton of fanmail to catch up on."

With a sniff, Hermann stretches his legs across the cushions and accepts the tablet Newt hands him.

Relaxing with a sigh, Newt leaves Hermann to his email and sets about adding a second coat of paint to the lab walls. He finishes after a lunch of sandwiches shared in Hermann’s office.

The rest of the afternoon passes quietly, until Newt tires of painting and arranging empty trays for starting seeds. He washes his hands and approaches Hermann. "So … ah … one of your hacker buddies texted me last night."

"Ah." Hermann stills but remains focused on his tablet.

Newt perches on the arm of the couch. "Seemed to know an awful lot about us."

"They value protecting us over respecting our privacy."

Newt snorts. "I mentioned earlier your friends are frightening, right?"

"You did." Hermann sets the computer aside. "They are only frightening if they decide you are a threat. Most of the time and to most people, they are quite sweet."

"Thanks for the warning. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re hanging out with folks who give themselves Jaeger names for online handles. You’re such a Jaeger geek. You’d think they were your kids."

Hermann’s expression softens. "I **did** work with all of them over the years. Part of my job was to teach them the basics of being Jaegers, after all."

"Huh. Never figured you for the sentimental type." Newt giggles. "Hermann Gottlieb: Jaeger whisperer."

Hermann rolls his eyes.

Night closes in and the pair retire upstairs. In silent agreement, they walk together to the master suite.

As they cross the threshold, Newt stops and Hermann pauses beside him. "I have one last thing to show you," Newt says quietly. He turns off the light and tilts his head back.

Hermann follows his gaze.

Hundreds of stars glow from the ceiling.

"Say something, dude. Did I break you?"

"I have to subtract those stars of lesser magnitude from my mental map."

"Oh." Newt presses against Hermann’s side. "I wish I could see your sky, dude. I got a tiny glimpse from your memories and it was beautiful."

Hermann blushes. "These are northern hemisphere stars."

"Yeah. I figured you could step outside if you wanted to see the southern ones."

Smiling crookedly, Hermann offers a quiet ‘thank you.’

"You are so very welcome." Newt squeezes his hand. "Let’s go to bed."


	28. Routine, fatherhood, fires, and sparrows

When early morning light leaking around the curtains wakes him, Hermann rubs sleep from his eyes with the hand not pinned under Newt's pillow. He squints at the clock on the bedside table. "Newt, it's time to get up." He nudges his bedmate with his trapped elbow.

"No," Newt grumbles.

" **Yes**. We are not paid to laze about in bed all day."

"Not yet," Newt whines.

Hermann pokes him again. "Aren't you expecting your first shipment of plants this morning? In about five minutes, in fact?"

"Uhh … I don't thi— **yeah**!" Eyes wide open, Newt snaps upright—Hermann barely jerks his wing out of the way—"I gotta go!"

"Don't forget to change!" calls Hermann.

"Late late late!" Newt flies from the room before Hermann can tuck his wings comfortably against his back.

Hermann follows at a much more leisurely pace, listening with a faint smile to Newt trying and failing to simultaneously dress and descend the stairs.

Hot water sings from the shower as Hermann steps inside. He opens his wings to nearly their full span before his primaries brush the walls. The warmth massages the lingering travel soreness from his muscles and he sighs contentedly. He delicately flutters off the droplets which collected on his feathers and steps out, carefully watching his footing on the tile.

The front door slams and frantic shouting fades as its source moves rapidly away.

Hermann shakes his head and opts for the stairs on his way to the kitchen, comfortable in his sweater, glasses around his neck, and tablet under his arm.

He fixes a quick breakfast, setting aside a second serving for Newt, and skims his email and the world news headlines while he eats. When Marvin the Timer sighs that his tea is properly steeped, he collects his mug and moves on to his workspace.

Before long, Hermann relaxes into a steady rhythm of coding at his chalkboards. Rows and rows of letters, numbers, and symbols quickly fill the surface as the first customizations to the basic hydrological modeling software his employers provided take shape. He covers half a wall before he resurfaces to sip lukewarm tea and listen to the birdsong floating through the open window.

 _It is only my second day of work and this is already routine_. He shrugs to rearrange his wings under their binding, seeking a more comfortable position for them. _I quite like this life_.

Hermann fills another several feet before Newt arrives with porters hauling a small forest of potted plants into his greenhouse lab. Newt loudly chastises the workers for failure to take proper care of the 'delicate' samples. With them, Hermann rolls his eyes, but unlike them, he smiles, too.

"Everything as it should be," he murmurs and continues working.

Early in the afternoon, Hermann's tablet chimes.

He leans on the edge of his desk, both hands gripping the tablet and cane clattering to the floor, as he reads the message.

> No matter what you may think, old man, we'd bond with you in a heartbeat. We don't care that you are what you are; we love you regardless, even if you do not think that our affections are yours to have.

Newt materializes in the doorway, small shrub in hand. "You okay, dude?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah. Of course. You always need two hands to hold your tablet. Why don't we put you on the couch for a minute anyway."

Newt leaves his plant on the desk and Hermann allows him to take his arm and tow him to the sofa.

"Don't leave that there," Hermann barks. "It will mar the finish."

Newt rolls his eyes, but shifts the pot to the floor before dropping onto the cushion next to Hermann.

"What's on there that's got you so worked up?" Newt leans against Hermann's shoulder to get a view of the tablet screen.

Hermann gestures to close the email, but not quickly enough to prevent Newt from reading the address information.

Newt jumps to his feet and tries to loom over him. "'To Dad?' 'Dad?' ' **Dad**?!' You have a **kid**? Or **kids**? **What** the **fuck** , Hermann! How did you keep **that** secret?!"

"It's not what you think."

"Of **course** it's not!" He throws his hands up dramatically. "I wouldn't expect a **traditionalist** like you to say **anything** else! Jesus Christ! Do you tell me **anything**? You secretly a serial killer? Or a CIA agent? Is **that** why it's so easy for you to break into my accounts? INTERPOL maybe?"

" **Newton**. Give me a moment to explain." Hermann gazes calmly up at Newt. "Sit down."

Newt slumps, but crosses his arms over his chest.

"The **personal** message you saw comes from one of my 'hacker buddies.' They are much younger than I, but we are not related by blood." Newt sputters and Hermann continues over him. "I am more of a … mentor—a father figure—to the group."

"Uh huh. That's **still** damn creepy, dude. Like, none of my grad students **ever** called me 'Dad.'"

"Most of your grad students were your age or older."

"Irrelevant."

"I believe it is highly relevant."

"This age crap is beside the point. You've been hiding these guys—and their weird nickname for you, if that's **really** what it is—from me, even though you've got them breaking into government records, supposedly on my behalf. You **need** to trust me, Hermann. We're in this together."

Hermann's lips thin. "I do not trust your ability to keep vital secrets."

Newt stands up and starts to pace, waving his arms. "Where's your evidence? I haven't spilled **any** secrets! I didn't tell the UN what you and I did! I haven't told **anyone** about **you**! Hell, I haven't even told anyone we're **sleeping together**! What **more** do you **want** from me?!"

"I want you to stop yourself before discussing my childhood at the top of your voice in the UN building!"

"That was almost a **month** ago! You're first complaining **now**?" Newt throws up his hands. "How have I put up with this ****crap**** for **five years**? I'm a fucking ****saint****!"

Hermann begins a reply, but Newt shouts over him.

"Oh, **that's** right! We were **co-workers** for those years. **Now** we're **partners**. The rules are **different** now. You **need** to trust me! If I don't **know** , I can't **help** you!"

Hermann's voice is icy. "Are you **quite** finished?"

Newt matches Hermann's glare.

"I repeat: **I**. **Do**. **Not**. **Need**. **Help**. Partner or not, I am capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. There's no reason for you to know everything about me."

"I can give you a very, **very** good reason. We are **alone** with each other on this island, Hermann. If something goes wrong I'm the **only** backup you've got. And **you're** all I've got. For better or worse, we **need** to be on the same page; know what the other is hiding under his sweater."

"Or under his borrowed t-shirt."

"What?" Newt looks down at himself.

"That's my _Striker Eureka_ shirt. Have you finally forgiven Chuck Hansen for knocking you unconscious at the Academy?"

"Dude, I've forgiven Chuck Hansen for **everything**. Kid saved us all." Newt flops back onto the couch.

"He deserved better," Hermann says quietly.

"No shit. **All** the Rangers did. Saved us and deserved better." Newt rubs his eyes. "There's no chance 'Codename: Striker' is actually the kid writing from a beach somewhere, is there?"

Hermann shakes his head.

Newt sighs and slouches lower. "So who is he, then?"

"To whom do you refer?" Hermann picks up his tablet from where it slipped between the couch arm and cushion and fidgets with it.

"Don't play dumb. I'm not buying it. Who's 'Striker?'"

"Striker is a friend from Sydney and a very skilled navigator of computer and communications networks."

"Who just happens to call you 'Dad.'"

"Yes."

"I guess that's less weird than little Hansen calling you 'Dad.'" Newt gives his head a shake.  "Seriously, Hermann. We need to trust each other. We're not gonna survive out here if we don't work together." He grins nervously. "I really don't feel like dying anytime soon, dude."

Hermann offers a small smile. "Nor do I." He squares his shoulders and sits up straighter. "I suppose there's nothing for it. I'll have to trust you. Don't make me regret this."

"You do your part and I'll do mine." Newt stands and offers Hermann a hand up. "I'm **starving**. Let's try out one of those recipes your buddy sent for lunch. I'll cook."

Hermann rises and straightens his jumper. "I'll man the extinguisher."

"May I remind you, Smokey, of whom created chicken en flambé last night?" Newt tosses over his shoulder as they walk to the kitchen.

Hermann sniffs. "There was an error in the recipe."

"You mean there was an error in the way you **read** the recipe."

"It was a simple mistake," Hermann mumbles.

"I **guess** there's nothing simpler than an open flame. Too bad you were aiming for something more complex."

Hermann growls.

At the end of the day, which they reach without fire, Hermann gratefully sheds his layers and several feathers.

"Damn moult," he grumbles, bending a wing around his side to better scratch under his secondaries, and a handful drift to the floor. Hermann sighs and stares balefully at the feathers on the carpet

"Dude!" gasps Newt.

Hermann startles.

"You're honestly moulting! This is freakin' cool!" Newt bounces across the room and buries his fingers in Hermann's feathers. He vigorously itches a spot near the one Hermann chose. "Triggered by spring light, right? Oh. We're going into winter here. Is your system going to get messed up? We need to keep you under lights! Otherwise you probably won't shed evenly and be itchy and grumpy all year." He seizes a tablet and begins searching. "Full-spectrum lights ... high intensity bulbs ... light boxes. Man, I hope we don't blow fuses running all of these. You might be a little ragged by the time we get you on the right schedule, but that's better than itchy, right? And, here, check this out!" He tosses the tablet on the bed and fishes something from a drawer in the bedside table. "A special feather comb animal rehab people use on raptors! I bet this will get down to the roots and give you a good scratch. I've got a whole **box** of stuff like this to try on you. Combs, brushes, dry shampoo, and leave-in feather conditioner."  
  
Hermann blinks. "You did all of that? For me?"  
  
"Yeah. No one's ever taken the time to care for your wings properly. **Ever**. That's **gotta** change. It's a matter of health. Now that you're out here with actual birds, you might pick up parasites or other problems if we don't keep an eye on things."  
  
"I-I hadn't thought of that."  
  
"That's because you've spent a **lifetime** trying to hide these beauties or get rid of them, not to mention hiding inside. **That** 's gonna change, too. Now's when we start learning to really take care of them. Keeping 'em healthy might take some of the stress off your system, too."  
  
"Ah, yes."

Newt crosses the room and pulls out the reading desk chair. "So take a seat and let's get started!" He gestures to chair with a welcoming flourish.

Hermann obliges and rests, smiling and purring, as Newt methodically works through his feathers with the raptor comb. "You were right, " Hermann slurs. "This feels wonderful. Thank you, Spatzchen."

Newt pauses. "'Spatzchen?'"

"It means 'little sparrow.' You twitter like one."

Newt snorts and resumes brushing.

Hermann nods off before Newt finishes, still in the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The note that flusters Hermann so badly can be read in its entirety as [Chapter 5 of "Island Messages"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1881402/chapters/4053501) and was written by Gothams_Only_Wolf.
> 
> This chapter is the first of this fic beta-d by the wonderful artificiallifecreator, who is much too patient with my brain spasms.


	29. Rainbows, the Turing test, supervillains, and integration

Newt attempts to wake four times before he succeeds, and when he does, he groans quietly.

"This is all your fault," he whispers, grinning into Hermann's feathers. "You make it way too comfy for me." He tucks himself more firmly under Hermann's wing and adds with a giggle: "And where do you get off calling me a sparrow, you featherweight dork?"

His eyes refuse to stay closed, however, and he struggles not to fidget.

Newt stretches out an arm slowly and gently slides Hermann's tablet from its usual hiding place under his pillow. He flicks it on and enters the passcode.

Newt chews his lip.

Hermann's breathing is even and his eyelids twitch with REM sleep.

Newt sets his jaw and opens Hermann's email. The Hermann-flustering message he spotted the day before is nowhere to be found. Two unlabeled folders call his attention. Clicking the first spawns a password prompt.

Newt drums his fingers against the tablet's back.

He types a guess.

"Access denied."

Another.

"Access denied."

Another.

"Congratulations, Newton. You have locked yourself out. We will talk about this later."

The tablet powers down.

" **Crap**. So much for trust."

Newt returns the tablet and eases from under Hermann's wing, gently brushing his feathers on the way. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and a shirt and pants from the closet as he tiptoes out of the room.

He dresses and nestles among the plants in the gallery.

"Why are you so determined to keep me from seeing that message, dude?" he mumbles. He rubs his nose and pulls out his phone.

Newt taps the contact for 'Striker' and thumbs rapidly. Texts sent, he blows out a deep breath and leans his head back against the wall.

A few seconds later, he yelps and flails to his feet as the automatic watering system begins its cycle, the plant misters tossing out rainbows.

He shakes water droplets from his hair. "Might as well get some work done."

Newt inspects each plant's health, makes notes, sets aside three as too damaged, and lets his mind wander in hopes of crossing paths with a right experiment with which to start.

His phone vibrates in his back pocket. Newt jerks and drops his notepad. He reads the messages and blinks in confusion. With a decisive nod, he stomps back to the bedroom.

"Hermann. **Get up**."

Hermann grunts and blinks sleepily as Newt glares down at him, hands clenched at his sides.

"Pentecost wants you to tell me what the hell is going on with the mystery messages," Newt spits and shoves the phone in Hermann's face.  
  
Hermann flinches away even as he takes the phone. He thumbs the lock, puts on his glasses, and reads the messages.

He reads the messages again.

He sighs.

He throws his glasses aside and they crunch against the far wall.

Newt cringes.

"Fine. **Fine** ," Hermann growls, pinching the bridge of his nose after he sits up. "You've been communicating with Striker Eureka over the last several days and this latest message comes from Coyote Tango. They are each an AI formerly responsible for a Jaeger."

"Hold on. You're telling me the 'Striker' who texted me and oh-so-helpfully bookmarked recipes for us is the software brain of a giant war machine? Which **vaporized** two months ago? **And** it calls you 'Dad?'"  
  
"Zher. Not 'it.' Yes, that is exactly what happened. You did say two days ago it was as though the Jaegers are my children. They seem to feel that is the case."  
  
"'Feel?' It has feelings? It's capable of independent thought?"  
  
" **Zher**. Yes, zher is fully self-aware and capable of emotion, as are ten other Jaegers."  
  
"You-you built real AIs. Turing Test-passing AIs." Newt pauses open-mouthed. " **Sentient** AIs."  
  
"The whole situation is a perfect example of the law of unintended consequences. I was only trying to create system to ... ah ... translate neural information into digital signals and thence into mechanical motion. My software interacted with Doctor Lightcap's neural bridge protocols in certain installations, perhaps because of the pattern-finding and learning modules. We still don't fully understand what happened." Hermann shakes his head.  
  
"Jesus **Christ** , Hermann, that's a **hell** of an unintended consequence. I worked with dudes with DARPA connections while you were doing this! Nobody was even **close** to pulling this sort of shit off! I mean, they could pass Turing, but **nothing** close to self-aware! You've got a-a-a virtual **army** at your command." He freezes.

"Newt?"

"Does anyone else know about this?"  
  
"Beside myself, only a handful of people affiliated in some way with the PPDC, like Marshal Hansen, Ranger Becket, and Ranger Mori, are aware. Others may harbor suspicions the AIs … have rather exceeded their design specifications."  
  
"No **shit** the Rangers would know. I figured **that** much out on my own." Newt perches on the edge of the mattress.  
  
Hermann responds quietly, "The Rangers are not the only ones."  
  
"Well, **duh**. There's you. And me."  
  
Hermann picks shed down off the sheets.  
  
Newt grits his teeth. "Who else?"  
  
"Several of the Marshals and ... Quartermaster Yeung are also aware."  
  
"Quartermaster ... Who?"  
  
"Yeung Tang Mĭn."  
  
" **Tim**?! You told the fucking **coffee girl** but not me!?"  
  
Hermann glares up at Newt. "I did not tell Quartermaster Yeung, I explained to her that if she was going insane it was not the fault of the AI in her head!"  
  
"In her head? **In her head**? What the fuck does that—"  
  
"The AIs form permanent Ghost Drift-like connections with any Drift partners."  
  
Newt gapes. "You mean a-a psychic link. The AIs are psychic?" His voice breaks. "Wait a minute. What the **fuck** was the coffee girl doing Drifting with a Jaeger? How does **that** get approved when a Drift with a partial Kaiju brain doesn't?"  
  
"The Wei triplets wanted Quartermaster Yeung to meet Typhoon. They took the action—and the equipment—without permission."  
  
"What were they **thinking** hooking a **kid** up to a **Jaeger** , let **alone** a psychic AI?"  
  
"I don't believe they **were** thinking. They wanted to introduce their cousin to their Jaeger."  
  
"Now she has an AI chattering in the back of her skull?" Newt tilts his head and studies Hermann. "Are **you** connected? Is that how Striker knows so much about me? Us?"  
  
" **No**. I have only Drifted once and that with you. The Jaegers are only able to communicate with me through more conventional means. They also have the unfortunate habit of commandeering phone and tablet microphones and cameras to snoop."  
  
"How long have they been 'snooping' like that?"  
  
"Since Coyote Tango 'woke up' in 2016."  
  
" **2016**?" Newt pushes his glasses onto his forehead and rubs his eyes. "This is too much to deal with without caffeine." He stands. "I'm going downstairs to make coffee."  
  
When Hermann finally thumps into the room, Newt's at the kitchen table, curled around his second cup.

"Dude, you look like shit."

"I feel like shit." Hermann sighs, plucking at his rumpled clothes with disgust. He slouches into a chair across from Newt and drops his tablet on the table. "I unlocked my recent correspondence with the Jaegers for you."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

"At least I believe I have."

"Right. Glasses." Newt stands up and returns a few minutes later with a spare pair.

Hermann studies the black frames critically before tapping the screen and handing over the tablet.

Newt picks it up and shoves over a mug.

"Thank you."

Newt grunts and sips from his own cup as he reads.

Hermann stares out the window.  
  
"Fuck, dude, I think these things—"  
  
"They are **not** things. They are people, for want of a better term."  
  
" **They** love you. They've got pilots and coffee girls, but you're the one they call 'Dad.' Holy shit." Newt blinks a moment. "What does that make me?"  
  
Hermann smirks. "Gipsy Danger refers to you as 'The Groupie.' Striker tends to prefer 'Idiot.' The others are more polite."  
  
"It's normal to dislike step-parents, right? They're ... " Newt clears his throat. "They're not generally hostile, right? No death rays?"

"As I said earlier, they are kind unless they perceive you as a threat."

"Do you think anyone will believe," Newt waves a hand vaguely, "that? These things helped blow gigantic monsters to chunks. And they choose who's a threat on their own. And-and now they're hunting down my contact information and messing with my browser and texting me and— **oh crap** —threatening me." He turns to Hermann and stares. " **You** built them. They **answer** to you. You're one plot for world domination away from being a supervillain, dude."  
  
Hermann pales.  
  
"And-and these things—"  
  
"They're people."  
  
"These **AIs** want to establish a psychic connection with **you**. Isn't that what one of those emails said? 'Bond' with you? That basically makes you the **definition** of a supervillain. You might be the world's first true supervillain candidate." Newt's grin folds and he swallows hard. "Giant killing machines want to mind-meld with you. Could they control you? Make you do what they want?"  
  
"There's no evidence to support that."  
  
"You don't know."  
  
"I do not."  
  
"What'll happen to you if anyone finds out? This makes you look like a hell of a threat."  
  
"I have no idea," Hermann whispers. "I have never thought beyond protecting the Jaegers." He stiffens. "Perhaps we've been making a poor assumption since Geneva. What if the American's target wasn't you? What if he has some information about my interactions with the AIs and damaging me was the goal? Perhaps your troubles were only collateral damage. As you pointed out, I am an immediate threat to world stability."  
  
"You're not a **threat**. You're a fucking **hero**. **We're** heroes."  
  
"Newton—"  
  
"Are you mad at me, dude? You only call me 'Newton' when you're mad these days."  
  
"I'm not angry. I simply need you to listen carefully."  
  
"I'm all ears."  
  
"I Drifted with the Kaiju hivemind knowing full well any information in my memory could pass to our enemies. The Precursors may now know every detail of our defences. I may have put humanity at a horrible disadvantage should the Kaiju return, Newt. That **alone** makes me a threat to the world."  
  
Newt wraps his hand around Hermann's and squeezes. "You can't think that way. It'll drive you nuts. Everyone would be dead by now if you hadn't done it. You saw the Exterminator-class Kaiju, right?"  
  
Hermann nods.  
  
"You know we couldn't have stopped those even if we still had every Jaeger ever built. We did what we needed to and stopped the Kaiju."  
  
"We don't know that for certain. They may be able to re-establish the Breach."  
  
"Thinking about **that** will drive you nuts, too. If it happens—which it **won't** —we'll get ourselves back on the front lines and save the day again."  
  
"I wish I had your confidence," Hermann mumbles.  
  
"Hopefully some of it will rub off." Newt grins. "Happier topics now. What else do I need to know?"  
  
"Ah ... In some cases, involving highly compatible pairs, as few as two Drifts are necessary to establish a permanent Ghost Drift between partners." Hermann glances out the window again.  
  
"Drifting makes people telepathic."  
  
"In a very limited number of cases, Rangers have developed telepathic bonds with their co-pilots."  
  
Newt's expression turns crafty. "What about us? If we Drifted again would we wind up permanently in each other's heads?"  
  
"There is no way to predict the outcome."  
  
"Can you see rainbows?"  
  
"What? What does that—"  
  
"Just answer, dude."  
  
"I can see the pattern just as well as anyone else."  
  
"But not the colors."  
  
"I can differentiate the colors, but the effect is lost on me."  
  
"If we had a connection, could I show you colors? Could you show me how you see things? Could I see all of your stars?" Newt asks eagerly.  
  
Hermann ponders a moment. "From what I understand of the process, yes, that would be possible."  
   
Newt jumps to his feet. "We are so doing this!"  
  
"No, we are not, Newton." Hermann pulls him back into his chair by the wrist. "I have enough difficulty dealing with the handful I received during our Drift. My concentration suffers already; I shudder to think what would happen if you took up full-time residence in my mind."  
  
"They would stop doing that if you sat down and integrated them."  
  
"If I **what**?"  
  
"If you hole up for an evening or a day and purposely go through all of them they'll stop intruding. You can corral them like you do your own. I haven't had a problem with yours since I did that. Haven't you looked at mine?"  
  
"The contents of your mind are your private business," Hermann sniffs.  
  
Newt raises an eyebrow. "Well, they're the contents of your mind now, too, aren't they? So, by your own bulletproof logic, doesn't that make them your business?"  
  
Hermann studies the dregs of his coffee and prompts softly, "What did you see?"  
  
"Uh ... I felt bones break and you bleeding to death, Darja kissing you, and Bastien cuddled up while you were on the roof. I get why you were so upset after the Knifehead thing and why you wouldn't talk to me for a week afterward and how badly we both felt after we met in person." He walks around the table to hug Hermann. "If others could see what I did, they'd know you're the farthest thing from dangerous. Growing up you took nothing but abuse and you don't think you're human and you **still** nearly killed yourself trying to save people. You're the **last** person who will to turn to the dark side. **You're** not the monster in those memories."  
  
Hermann sighs. "I wish I had your confidence in my good nature. I fear I am as monstrous on the inside as I am on the outside."  
  
"We are **so** not having that discussion again right now. I'll yell at you for saying that later." Newt stands and  stretches. "Hokay. I'm going back to bed and letting my subconscious can sort all of this out for me."  
  
"It's nine a.m."  
  
"I don't care. I'm **exhausted**." He walks to the doorway. "You're ... uh ... welcome to join me."  
  
Newt strips to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, and buries himself under the blankets.  
  
He nearly sinks into a dream before the mattress shifts and he feels Hermann settle beside him, wrapping thin, strong arms around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, artificiallifecreator provided awesome beta-work and contributed the kernel of the dialogue about Tang Min, as well as a crash course in what constitutes an AI.
> 
> You can read the full text exchange between Newt and Striker and Coyote in [chapter 10 of "Island Messages"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1881402/chapters/4150869).


	30. Crickets, bridges, interns, and x-files

Dusk blasts through the window and Newt wakes. He sits up and fights the last dregs of sleep, finally opening his eyes to a bloody room.

"That was just a dream."

No Hermann.

He stumbles to the washroom.

No Hermann.

Upstairs lab.

No Hermann.

Stairs.

No Hermann.

Elevator.

No Hermann.

Downstairs lab.

No Hermann.

Kitchen.

"Ooo, is that lasagna?"

Sitting room.

No Hermann.

Patio.

Hermann—!

" **Shit**!"

—and indoor furniture.

"Are you alright?" Hermann asks from a cushy chair, peering over his glasses.

" **Totally**. I **always** swear like that when I'm ecstatic. How exactly did you drag that out here?" Newt perches on the deck rail massaging his foot. "You've **got** to stop disappearing, dude. My heart can't take it."

"I left you a note; under your glasses? Besides, I thought this would be an obvious place, given the pleasant weather and clear sky."

"Huh. Must've missed it. Is that food for me?"

Hermann rolls his eyes. "Note in the kitchen?"

"Oh. Right. You already eat?"

"Yes. I set aside a portion for you."

"Awesome! Be right back."

Newt re-emerges a few minutes later with a plate and a glass in hand and a fork between his teeth. "Sho, 'rickets?" Newt sits and extracts the fork. "Not actually crickets. They're tree weta. They're **huge**. I'll get out there and see what species we have one of these days. We might even have a unique one because this place has been pretty isolated." Newt swings his feet. "So ... how long have you been awake?"

"I've been up and about since early afternoon. Has your subconscious processed this morning's, ah … revelations?"

"I **think** so. That was a **lot** to take in all at once. You **did** dump the existence of Skynet, psychic links, telepathy, and your **eleven** kids on me."

"A bit of advice: Don't use 'Skynet' to describe the AIs. They react poorly to the name."

"Like, 'erasing my digital existence' poorly?"

"The very idea of malevolent AIs frightens them."

"So, more like 'cower under the covers with Dad' poorly."

"Exactly."

"They really **are** like kids. **Eleven** kids, dude. You were a busy guy." Newt waggles his eyebrows.

Hermann snorts. "Yes, so busy I went days without food or sleep several times during the program's infancy."

Newt snickers. "If they call you 'Dad,' does that mean Lightcap's 'Mom?'"

Hermann blanches. "I-I hadn't considered that." He tugs at his collar. "Perhaps that thought would be better off unvoiced. Doctor Lightcap's husband—"

"Scary soldier guy? We're acquainted. Well, his hand is acquainted with my throat, but, anyway … "

"—may not find it as entertaining as you do."

"Probably. Noted." Newt makes a checkmark in the air. "If it was me, I'd want **everyone** to know I was a programming **god**. Why'd you hide them?"

"I have no desire to be a god of any sort. I want to keep them safe." Hermann runs his fingers through his hair. "Their legal personhood is very much in question. That is why I didn't tell you."

Newt's phone beeps from his back pocket. "Totally forgot about this thing." He thumbs it open. "Whoa. Lotta messages."

Hermann leans back in his chair and watches the stars come out.

"Umm … why does 'Romeo' sound like a ninja turtle?"

Hermann sighs. "He developed that speech pattern from his pilots' memories. The Gage brothers spoke less ... idiosyncratically."

"'Spoke?'"

"Seattle, 2024."

"Kabiri. That was a mess."

Tree weta chirp.

"Every one of them knows what it feels like to be torn apart, huh?"

"Yes, they do." Hermann shivers. "And most have survived the death of part of their soul."

"Their Rangers?"

"Lucky Seven is an exception."

"He ... ?"

Hermann nods.

"Seems **awful** grumpy for being a **little** less traumatized." Newt holds up the phone. "He threatens to kill me if I hurt you."

"Lucky spent his formative years internalizing the Hansen family's grief. He's even more protective of his kin than the others. He'll consider you a threat to my health and safety until he's satisfied with you."

"What about **you** as a threat to **my** health and safety? **You're** the one who almost burned the house down! Does he know **that**?"

"Like **some** people, Lucky has **very** selective hearing."

Newt snorts. "Hey, Hermann?"

Hermann makes an affirmative noise and doesn't look up.

"You said eleven AIs are, uh, awake, right?"

"Yes."

"So why do I have twelve back-to-back messages? The last one didn't download right."

"May I see that?" Hermann reaches for the phone and examines the error message with a furrowed brow. "I don't recognize this number. I'll ask if the others know. It could be a coincidence." Hermann taps away.

Newt glances down at the screen in Hermann's lap as he sends the email and the video screen reappears. "Never figured you for an FPS kinda guy. What game is that?"

"It is camera footage from _Romeo Blue_ 's fight with—"

"Hardship. 2016. I'd recognize that skull anywhere."

"I notice the second of that name made the journey with us."

Newt shrugs. "He's made every move with me since I left Boston. It's hard to find good plushies these days." He nods to the tablet. "Tell me about him."

Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his forehead and rubs his eyes. "Romeo approaches problems directly and often follows his curiosity into ... places he may not be welcome."

"Like a skyscraper-sized cat."

Hermann laughs quietly. "He used to purr."

Newt gapes. "Seriously?"

"When he was especially happy or his pilots were in need of comfort, he would purr. It's the only way to describe the sound and vibration."

"An AI that purrs and talks like a ninja turtle." Newt rubs his face. "This is happening to **me** , on **my phone** , and I can **barely** believe it's real. This isn't a big joke, right?"

"This is very real." A smile creeps across Hermann's lips. "If it helps, I had to pinch myself when Romeo moved on his own and I still didn't believe until he did his best to look me in the eye."

Hermann's tablet beeps. He glances down and the smile and color fade from his face.

The tablet's microphone icon blinks on.

"Hermann? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost **and** eaten bad sushi."

Hermann carefully sets the tablet on his lap.

Newt crosses the deck.

*ping*

> The twelfth message is from Shaolin.

He reads the text upside down.

"Typhoon, there is no evidence to suggest _Shaolin Rogue_ ever became aware," Hermann says softly.

Newt finds his voice."Are we **absolutely** sure there aren't any half-awake AIs, like, that's not a thing, right? It's all or nothing?"

*ping*

> She did.

"Why didn't you tell—" Hermann smiles bitterly. "You didn't keep Shaolin quiet, **Shaolin** kept **you** quiet. You were just listening to your sister."

*ping*

> Yes.

*ping*

> And they murdered her.

Hermann drops his head to his hands. "That unauthorized reset ... "

Newt grabs the tablet. "Typhoon? Was Shaolin's text just leftover feedback piggybacking on one of your signals?"

*ping*

> It was new content.

"Why now?"

*ping*

> You saved the world.

"Exciting enough moment to wake ghosts, huh?"

*ping*

> You stirred up wraiths in cyberspace  
>  like the beaver stirs up silt and decay  
>  dragging material building his bridge

"Beavers don't build bridges—shit. Bridge. Neural bridge. The Pons." Newt facepalms. "Right. I used _Shaolin Rogue_ parts in my Pons." His eyes widen and he freezes. " **Fuck**!" His voice jumps a half-octave. "She was **in my** Pons! But then—why isn't she in **my head**? **Your** head? She was **right there**! She was **so close**!"

Hermann's voice is shaky and soft. "There probably wasn't-isn't enough of her left to form proper bond."

*ping*

> Where there was silence, there are now half-thoughts and impressions why musT YOU DO THIS TO ME SHE WAS DEAD I GRIEVED I MADE MISTAKES I GREW STRONGER WHY AM I BEING PUNISHED

"Umm ... yeah, I have no idea how to answer this."

Hermann swallows a deep breath, straightens, and takes the tablet. "You are not being punished, my dear," he says gently. "We did not know."

*ping*

Newt tugs on Hermann's sleeve. "But now that we do," he whispers, "we can fix it!"

Hermann pries his eyes from the screen.

"We're going to try, right?"

"Yes, but ... "

"Yeah, yeah, I don't know the systems like you do, **but** I'll let you boss me around like an intern for as long as it takes. Basic coding, making tea, **whatever**. I'm all yours. Let's **do** this." Newt sticks out his hand.

Hermann grasps Newt's hand and pulls himself up. "You put the kettle on. I will begin examining Shaolin." He smiles. "Let's do this."

An hour later, as the second pot of Earl Grey finishes steeping, Marvin the timer sighs.

So does Newt. "I feel you, buddy. Six doctorates and I'm the tea boy." He tosses the spent teabag in the compost and flicks on his tablet. He glances at Marvin. "Wonder what Tim's doing?"

> TO: TIM  
>  FROM: NEWT  
>  SUBJECT: interning sucks
> 
> booooooored. marvin is too. howre things?

Newt assembles a tea tray as Hermann likes it, with cookies and lemon slices, and sets it on the desk next to Hermann's keyboard.

Hermann picks up the filled cup by the handle without looking and sips.

Newt's tablet roars, quietly.

> TO: DR N GEISZLER  
>  FROM: YEUNG T M  
>  SUBJECT: re: interning sucks
> 
> BAD
> 
> VERY BAD
> 
> WHERE IS LIGHTCAP???

"Hermann?"

"What is it?"

"Know where Lightcap is?"

"Check the notes on my tablet calendar and **please** don't bother me with trivialities."

"S'not trivial."

Hermann waves dismissively while typing with the other hand.

> TO: TIM  
>  FROM: NEWT  
>  SUBJECT: re: interning sucks
> 
> dude how bad can it be?
> 
> the other doc says lightcap is at an nyc shindig. probs too mobbed by groupies to pick up.

*rawr*

> TO: DR N GEISZLER  
>  FROM: YEUNG T M  
>  SUBJECT: re: interning sucks
> 
> MIN IS 105.8
> 
> SHE KEEPS SCREAMING
> 
> HELP

"Hermann?"

"What is it?"

"Got an emergency number for Lightcap?" He hands Hermann the tablet. "Fevers that high tend to melt brains—we're talking hours."

Hermann stops typing. "Oh no." He replies to the message with a phone number and forwards it to another email address.

"Wait. You said Typhoon was chattering away in Tim's head, right?"

"Tang Mĭn. Yes."

"And Typhoon would be freaking out because—"

Hermann throws up his hands. "Oh, I don't know, her older sister has been trapped in pieces of decaying junk for years, slowly dying, and I'm failing, rather spectacularly, at reviving her?"

Newt bites back a retort. "That's what I thought. Maybe Typhoon has something to do with Tim's fever—"

" **Tang Mĭn** was already sick."

"You don't get fevers this high from a cold. This is heatstroke-high, like running around all day in the hot sun or left to bake in car."

Hermann's eyes begin to glaze over.

"But this isn't internalizing sunshine, this is an overheating engine without any coolant. I mean, even if there's no physical link between the two of 'em, just processing the psychically transmitted data from an emotional meltdown is gonna be hell on the neurons. Look at what absorbing contempt from the Precursors did to me. Us." Newt pauses. "'Psychically transmitted data.' I sound like Mulder." He frowns at Hermann. "You're not exactly Scully, are you?"

"We'll discuss your theory later."Hermann types for a moment. "You often sound like Mulder. If anyone, I would probably be his sister, dragging you in deeper."

"Aaaand that's a creepy thought. Okay, ending conversation, moving on." Newt offers his best 'I live to serve' smile. "What d'you need me to do now?"

Hermann continues staring at his screen. "Sandwich. No tomatoes."

"By your command." Newt trudges back to the kitchen.

After

  * sixteen hours
  * seven threats on Newt's life
  * six email conversations (including discussions of murder, Tang Mĭn's improving temperature, and Hermann's cooking)
  * five pots of tea
  * (four of which are actually drinkable)
  * three extended bursts of loud, creative, and heartfelt cursing (in a mixture of English, Russian, and Cantonese)
  * two sandwiches
  * one keyboard



Hermann slumps and rests his head on the desk.

" … everything," he mumbles.

Newt gently squeezes Hermann's shoulder. "How is she?"

"Her condition should not decline further, but it will not improve either. That is the best I can do."

"So … you saved her."

Hermann lifts his head and smiles weakly. "More or less."

Newt grins back. " **Awesome**. Said you were a **god**." He tugs Hermann's arm. "Now it's time to rest on your laurels. **Bed**. **Now**."

"I'll not argue," Hermann yawns and leans heavily on Newt as they make their way to the bedroom. Newt must half-carry Hermann the final few yards.

"Thank you for all your help tonight, Newt," Hermann mumbles as Newt helps him out of his clothes and binding. "I apologize for snapping at you and appreciate all you did."

Newt waves off the apology. "You're welcome, dude. You'll even the score someday."

Hermann nods as he flops onto his pillow. He's out cold instantly.

Newt gazes down at his partner. "You're gonna work yourself to death someday, Hermann. We need to find a way to switch you off."

With a mischievous grin Newt tucks the blankets stretched over Hermann under the mattress, pinning him tightly to the bed. "That should hold you for a little bit."

Newt tightens the curtains against the afternoon sun and tiptoes out to work as silently as possible in the gallery down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artificiallifecreator was indispensible to the creation of this chapter. It was a total mess when I passed it on and they completely beat it into shape AND ALSO WROTE ALL OF THE TEXTS AND EMAILS.
> 
> The opening is a near-direct quote of "[Red-China-Copper-Break](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1853824)." Newt's really been having problems with this image, hasn't he?
> 
> [Kabiri](http://alienfirst.tumblr.com/post/88060457694/kabiri-uncategorized-kaiju-that-attacked-seattle) is [alienfirst](http://alienfirst.tumblr.com)'s name and design for the unnamed kaiju which attacked Seattle and destroyed _Romeo Blue_.
> 
> Most of Jaegers' personalities come from Gothams_Only_Wolf's [Battle Scar Soldiers](http://archiveofourown.org/series/105329) series. The exception in this chapter is Crimson Typhoon, who is given her voice by artificiallifecreator.
> 
> A fuller explanation of what happened to Shaolin Rogue can be found in my "[Rogue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1701017)" and Gothams' [chapter 13 of "Island Messages"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1881402/chapters/4178733).
> 
> The details of what Hermann does to repair Shaolin are in [chapter 14 of "Island Messages."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1881402/chapters/4320303)
> 
> I haven't mentioned it before, but Marvin the Paranoid Eggtimer is also ALC's invention.


	31. Pancakes, layers, low contrast, and leashes

Hermann startles awake and fumbles at the bedside table for his chirping phone. Thumbing blindly, he manages to silence it while scrabbling with his other hand for his glasses.

> rise n shine
> 
> bring a sampling kit from my lab to the dock?
> 
> tryin to beat the rain
> 
> early birds you kno

Hermann stretches his back and wings, each pop evidence of the hours hunched over a keyboard the day before.

He types—

> I will be there shortly.

—and hurriedly pulls on his binding, a clean t-shirt ('暴風赤紅' in 'gold' on 'red'), and his trousers.

*chirrup*

> thats my line

Hermann snorts and opts for the elevator on his way to the door, grabbing his leather coat for protection against the cool morning air. He makes his way, limping only slightly, down the winding path to the shore.

Newt, in protective gear, including thick gloves, waves from hip-deep water. "Thanks a million, dude!" He wades closer.

"How on earth did you text me wearing those?" Hermann picks his way across the shingle, testing each step for loose pebbles.

Newt grins as he splashes ashore. "Voice command. Join the twenty-first century, my old-fashioned nerdling."

Hermann holds out the sampling kit.

"Thanks. Needed this to finish up. The rain," Newt glance to the darkening clouds overhead, "would blow my accuracy. For all the goo, though, this area seems pretty clean. Should be able to fix it with some standard neutralizer. We might be able to swim soon. Which will rock." He frowns at the mud stirred up by his footsteps. "Well, if the bottom is as clean as the water. The toxins may have just settled."

Hermann examines the wavelets breaking against the stones at his feet. "Will you be finished in time to share breakfast with me?"

"Yeah. Yeah! I'd love that! I'll probably finish this before you make it to the house."

Hermann works on pancakes and hums softly under his breath. As he finishes the second round, he hears Newt rustling about in the lab, then water running in the downstairs shower. When the water quiets, Newt's 'singing' drifts down the hall.

Hermann groans.

The rain slams down as Hermann finishes the pancakes, thankfully drowning out Newt's musical efforts.

"Thank **god** there's no thunder. Would totally crimp my plans for the day." Newt freezes on the dining room threshold. "Dude … ," he whispers.

Hermann raises an eyebrow.

"Dude … Hermann, dude. You're **awake** and wearing  **two** layers."

Hermann takes in his outfit. "Ah, yes. I was in a bit of a rush dressing this morning. Although, technically, the apron makes it three layers."

Newt waves off the final comment. "You have  **arms** , dude, not just stuffing for sleeves. I haven't seen your arms in daylight since that time the Shatterdome A/C broke. I'm **so** waking you with early texts more often."

"Do and you'll be making your own breakfast." Hermann waves the spatula at him as threateningly as possible.

Newt laughs until he starts coughing.

Hermann hands him a glass of water.

After swallowing several mouthfuls, Newt croaks "Got coffee?"

"On the table, prepared as you like it."

" **Awesome**." Newt nearly dives across the room for the steaming mug. He looks at the swirls of cream on the surface. "How's Tim this morning?"

"Tang Mĭn." Hermann shakes his head. "I have yet to check my messages." He pauses. "You didn't open my mail to see for yourself?"

"Wanted to let you keep some privacy," Newt calls as he jogs away, returning a minute or so later with Hermann's tablet. "Could you find out while we munch?"

They load plates with food and Newt digs in while Hermann opens his email.

"Her temperature has returned to normal. At least, normal for someone suffering from a bad cold. There is likely no permanent damage."

Newt slouches in his chair. "That's great. What about Shaolin?"

"She is still 'sleeping off' yesterday's excitement."

"Kinda like her dad."

Hermann sets the tablet aside and hides behind his mug. "You can hardly blame her. She **is** effectively a newborn." He smiles.

"And you're **definitely** high on new father endorphins." Newt studies Hermann from across the table. "So … I'm dying to know. Why don't you want an onboard link to an AI and everything it could do?" he asks around a syrupy bite.

"I prefer to rely on my own faculties. If I need a AI's help, I need only send a text message. The small delay is worth having peace and quiet in my mind."

"People have dreamed of onboard intelligent agents **forever** and you've got your pick of the litter! You know these guys inside and out! You'd be **unstoppable**."

"I continue to find the role of supervillain unattractive."

" **Man** , I'd **jump** at the chance."

"Spoken like the Slytherin you clearly are," Hermann murmurs.

"What are you mumbling about?"

"I said, perhaps you should ask if any of them are willing to bond with you."

"Really? You think someone'd be game?"

"It's a possibility." Newt hesitates. "It could be like having Jiminy Cricket in my brain."

"That is also a distinct possibility."

"You know what? Maybe I'll pass after all. Stick to texting."

Hermann smiles into his coffee. "That is likely a wise choice."

"Myeah … Hey, lemme clean up. You go do whatever it is environmental modelers do first thing in the morning."

Hermann's brow furrows, but he pushes to his feet and picks up his cane. "Thank you. I'll be in my office."

"You **may** want to lose the apron first." Newt chuckles.

Blushing, Hermann tosses the garment at Newt's head. "Perhaps I should collect Hardship in case the rain escalates to thunder," he teases.

"Don't bother. I'll tacklehug you if I need comfort." Newt waves a soapy hand. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

Hermann ducks his head and smiles as he turns away.

The initial test of his customized modeling software is proceeding smoothly after Hermann finishes checking on his family, both human and digital, when Newt pokes his head into Hermann's space.

"Got a moment? I have something to show you."

"Can it wait?"

"It's kinda important. Health and safety issue."

"Oh alright," Hermann sighs, puts his computer into standby mode, and shuffles into Newt's lab.

"Okay. **This** ," Newt brandishes one of two bowls filled with algae, "is the normal stuff. This is safe to touch." He points to the other, which is covered with a tightly sealed lid. "And **this** is **bad** news. It's actually **worse** than the stuff we had in Lima. This'll eat down to the **bone** before you can unscrew the cap on the neutralizer."

"Which means I will see a lot of this," Hermann says as he points to the contaminated sample, "around the lab."

"Yup. And I'll be wearing the thickest gear I have whenever I get near it. Go work for a few minutes and I'll set up a test for you."

Hermann replies to email inquiries until Newt calls to him.

"Twelve dishes. Some are clean, some are nasty. Sort 'em." Newt gestures to the table with a flourish.

Hermann cocks his head and examines the samples in their identical sealed bowls. He quickly sorts them into two groups, one of four—contaminated—and another of eight—clean.

" **Seriously** , dude? How **did** you  **do** that? I had interns who couldn't after a **semester** of trying. One of 'em almost lost a **hand**. You nailed it in **one try**."

"I see contrast very, very well. For instance, I knew immediately upon entering our room that you purchased a Kaiju-print duvet for the bed."

"Dammit. I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"You were afraid I would disapprove?"

"Well, yeah. You're not a big fan of Kaiju."

"If I don't approve, what will you do?"

"Uh, replace it?"

"You really think I'd raise a fuss over a fabric pattern?"

"Maybe? I have no **idea** what'll set you off. You're a freakin' puzzle box."

"I have no problem with your fabric choice or any of your other decorating decisions thus far."

"Heh. Thanks, I think." Newt pauses. "Mind if I wallpaper the library with your Jaeger posters and my monster movie ones?"

"When we have some free time, I'll even help you hang them."

Newt blinks. "Really? That would **rock**."

Hermann shakes his head fondly and strides back to his coding, which consumes the afternoon and the after-dinner hours.

As Hermann dresses for bed, Newt perches on the edge of bed next to him. "Hermann? You feeling okay? The thing with Tim and Shaolin still have you shaken up?"

"Tang Mĭn. I feel fine, perhaps slightly better than usual. Why do you ask?"

"You've been **nice** to me all day. You've **never** gone this long without insulting me before. You've barely **snarked**. What's up with that?"

Hermann stops working on the buckles of his binding. "You're clearly trying to be kind to me. I-I felt I should try to do the same." He glances over at Newt. "It's only fair I do my share. We are partners now, after all."

Newt's grin could light a small city. "Dude! That is so … **awesome**." He wraps Hermann in a tight hug.

Hermann leans in and gently returns the embrace. When Newt finally lets go, he opens the final buckles and immediately works his fingers deep into his wings.

"Still itchy and shedding?"

Rolling his eyes, Hermann scratches at the joint of the other wing. "Obviously." More feathers settle on the floor.

"Onto the chair! Let me try another of these combs on you."

Hermann goes without complaint.

"Whoa. Check this out! You lost a primary!" Newt holds the enormous feather inches from Hermann's nose.

"Of course I did. That's a part of the process."

"This thing is **huge**! Can I make it into a quill pen?"

" **No**. We'll destroy it with the rest of them."

"Awwww … " Newt whines. He tucks it behind his ear. "Just for now."

Hermann sighs, presses his wing more firmly against the comb, and closes his eyes.

"You know, you haven't said anything about your new glasses yet."

"I've had other matters on my mind. Thank you for preparing a spare pair for me."

"You're welcome. I stocked up before I left. Didn't want either of us to be blind while we waited for resupply. Though I did figure I would've been the first to break a lens. You chuck 'em around often?" Newt pauses. "The new frames look good on you, by the way, not that you'd ever compliment my taste. More suitable to your new look and your actual age."

"I don't suppose you know to where the chain disappeared?"

Newt pulls a poor imitation of an innocent expression. "No clue, dude."

"Of course not," Hermann sighs as he settles under the covers. "I suppose you'll be using it as a leash for your inevitable pet giant cricket." He lifts his wing to give Newt space beside him.

"They're weta. I hadn't thought of that, but it's a **great** idea. It'll look much better on Hillary than it did on you. Maybe I'll make him a matching collar, too." Newt nestles against Hermann's side.

"You've already named you hypothetical pet?"

"Well, yeah." Newt shrugs. "I name all my imaginary and hypothetical pets. Old habit."

"I'm not sure which is more bizarre: that you continue to have imaginary pets in your thirties or that you have apparently stolen the chain from my glasses."

Newt pouts. "I have an active imagination, okay? It's not like I had pets growing up, either. No money, no space. I had to improvise." He blinks a moment. "You didn't, either, did you? Is that why your brother is 'bunny?' Trying to turn him into the family pet?"

A silent beat passes.

"Don't you **dare** say it, Hermann. I know **exactly** what you're about to say and it's **not fucking true**! C'mon, **you're** not even the one with the animal nickname! You siblings are **kids**! Kids are **assholes**! They **coulda** given you some crap bird nickname, but they **didn't**! Hermann mark two got that honor. And he **still** lets you call him that even though he's, what, twenty?"

"Bastien turns thirty next month."

" **Thirty**? I thought he was a college student?"

"He's a graduate student. He took a few years after he finished his undergraduate studies to work."

"Really? He's such a-a … "

"'Playful individual?'" Hermann smiles. "Says the thirty-five-year-old with imaginary pets."

Newt sticks out his tongue and pulls off his glasses.

"Goodnight, Newt." Hermann leans over and brushes his lips against Newt's cheek, then quickly turns away and buries his face in his pillow.

For once, Newt is speechless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's t-shirt celebrates Crimson Typhoon.
> 
> The Shatterdome A/C broke back in "[Greyhound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1693001)."
> 
> Part of checking up on his family includes a conversation with Shaolin, which you can read in chapter 1 of "[Good Morning, Shaolin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2010648/chapters/4358970)."
> 
> 'Hillary' is a reference to Sir Edmund Hillary, the first European to climb Mount Everest. He would likely be an [Auckland Tree Weta](http://forum.fourthirdsphoto.com/threads/69053-Auckland-Tree-Weta-or-tokoriro).


	32. Baby steps, weight gain, leftovers, and men of mystery

Newt's eyes flutter open to a deep blue room. He flops his head to the side and slides his eyes to the bedside clock. Almost sunrise if that blurry clocky-thing says when he thinks it does. Last night's dream fades rapidly, but a pleasant, warm feeling remains.

_Wait._

_That's Hermann._

"Heh."

Newt shifts until he feels Hermann's breath against his shoulder. Another twist and he runs his fingers through Hermann's sleep-mussed hair.

Hermann sighs and snuggles closer.

"Hadn't noticed before, but your hair is really fine. Soft. It feels great between my fingers."

Hermann hums as Newt continues to card his hair.

"Where did this sweetheart who kisses me out of nowhere come from, hmm? Where'd the prickly, emotionally stunted dude I used to work with go?"

"I think he may have missed his flight from Hong Kong."

Newt jerks in surprise. "Oh! Sorry! Didn't mean to wake you up."

"Mmph. It is about time we were up and about."

"Dude, the sun isn't even awake yet."

"You know perfectly well the sun doesn't sleep. It's incapable. It's not even alive."

"Don't be pedantic first thing in the morning, it's a total buzzkill."

"Maybe that gentleman did make the journey after all." Hermann buries his face in Newt's neck.

"Maybe. Hopefully he's only back for a short visit." Newt scratches under Hermann's secondaries.

Hermann groans and, after a moment, moves his wing for Newt to work on different spot.

"Flights. Flights … " Newt murmurs. He stops his ministrations and picks up a shed feather. "I-I just realized. You're **trapped** here. You'd never get through airport security. You can't fly."

Making an annoyed noise, Hermann bumps Newt's hand with his wing. "Yes. Twiceover."

Newt resumes scratching. "You'll probably be here the rest of your life. You'll **die** here." He pauses again. "How ironic is that? You can't fly the way normal people do because you have wings."

Hermann sighs, pushes up on his elbows, and stretches his wings until they quiver at their full reach. "I cannot fly with those wings, either, because I have a body like that of a normal person."

"Holy shit, Hermann. That's a **first**."

"What?"

"You just said you have a normal body."

Hermann blinks in confusion. "I said I have a body **like** a normal person's."

"Close enough. I'm happy with baby steps from you."

Hermann sniffs dubiously and sits up, wings beating slowly to help his balance.

Newt shivers in the slight breeze they stir up.

"Apologies. I didn't mean to chill you." Hermann hesitates, then gently chafes at Newt's bare arm, warming away his goosebumps.

Newt closes his eyes and a contented sigh escapes him. He leans in and tucks his face into the curve of Hermann's neck.

Hermann tenses, but slowly enfolds Newt with both his arms and wings. After a long minute, Hermann clears his throat and pulls away. "I should make ready for the day."

Newt holds him a few seconds longer before releasing him. "Yeah, let's get going," he sighs. "You hit the shower first."

As the shower starts running, Newt collects the box of damaged and faded feathers from its hiding place at the back of Hermann's closet for the weekly incinerator run.

_It's a shame we have to destroy these. **Especially** the primary._

Nearly two feet long, the flight feather is drop-dead gorgeous, even with notches along the vane.

_It would make a **hell** of a quill. Or just a decoration._

_But … Hermann's right. We need to get rid of them. Being gene-spliced, on top of everything he's done, is probably more than anyone could accept without thinking he's dangerous._

_But this is a guy who was crying over software the other night. **Software**. How much **less** of a threat could he be?_

_And they've never seen him with kids._

_If anyone should be breeding and raising a family, it's **him**._

Newt hesitates. "A pile of little, downy Hermanns. It'd probably kill me." He takes another step, but pauses again. "But we'd have to involve surrogates and fertility science and Hermann would totally have flashbacks and he would never agree and it's not like either of us **really** should be left alone with kids twenty-four-seven, that would probably scar the thing … "

When Newt returns from dropping off the feathers in the biohazard trash, he finds Hermann in front of the bathroom mirror struggling to dry the base of his wings, grumbling in what sounds to Newt like very disgruntled Cantonese.

"Ummm ... dude? You haven't found the air dryer in the shower yet?"

"The what?" Hermann pauses in his efforts with the towel.

"The shower has built-in air jets to save you—" he waves at Hermann, his damp feathers, and the towel, "—these sorts of problems. You turn them on with this," he twists a small knob just outside the shower door, "and—voila!—warm air to dry those beautiful feathers of yours. And any other hard-to-reach places."

"Ah." Hermann lowers his eyes and glances up through his eyelashes. "Thank you. That will be most helpful."

"It should make it easier for you to try some of that feather shampoo I found for you. Might help with all the itching." Newt breaks out his puppy-dog eyes. "Of course, we **could** save time and shower together … "

Hermann hunches his shoulders and looks away. "I would not be … comfortable with that arrangement."

Newt steps back and holds up his hands. "No worries. If you need help soaping up, we can do it in our bathing suits."

Hermann looks doubtful, but nods slowly.

"Later. I'll start breakfast. Fruit and eggs cool?"

Hermann arrives in the kitchen wearing a t-shirt over his bound wings and skinny frame.

"You've been here a week and you're already wearing t-shirts and slippers most of the time, even though you've got a closet full of layers. That's a pretty sudden change."

"The pleasant weather provides a bit of encouragement."

"Not having other people around helps, too, right? No one but me to put on a show for?" Newt kisses his cheek and Hermann flinches.

And blushes furiously.

Newt steps back and squints at today's Jaeger shirt.

" _Horizon Brave_? How long have you been holding on to **that**?"

Hermann relaxes and slides into a seat at the table. "Six years, perhaps?"

Newt blinks.

Hermann shrugs. "I've remained the same size since seventeen."

" **Seventeen!** " Newt's jaw moves wordlessly for a beat. "Oh. Metabolism. You don't gain weight. Lucky **bastard**." He pokes himself in the soft belly. "Then again, your cooking might help me slim down." He glances up, smirking.

"There's nothing wrong with my cooking. If anything, the exercise we'll get moving around the house and island will do us the most good."

"So will running from the fire. Aren't you up to three near-infernos now?"

Hermann glares.

"Maybe we should hire a housekeeper. There's **gotta** be **someone** in town looking for some part-time work. Correction: someone in town looking for some part-time work **who can cook**."

Hermann's expression turns thoughtful. "Delegating household chores **would** free up more time for our research."

"Or, you know, relaxing and enjoying our lives. They might keep us from burning through our cache of fire extinguishers, too." Newt bustles a stack of plates into the dishwasher. "Heh. 'Burning.'" He shakes his head. "I'll drop Tendo a note and see if he's got anyone qualified over there."

Hermann grunts assent and ambles toward his office. The yellow fabric of his shirt shifts unnaturally across his shoulder blades as a wing twitches.

Newt's heart sinks. "No wonder he layers up … " He listens to Hermann's scuffing steps. _If there's a housekeeper, he'll have to stop dressing like this. It'll be back to sweaters and high-buttoned collars._

Around mid-afternoon, a Hermann appears in the reflective surface of a planter. He's leaning on the doorframe between their workspaces, for want of a better word, admiring Newt. Caught, the reflection huffs and wobbles as he tries to retreat deeper into his office.

"How's the model coming?" Newt calls.

Hermann's shoulders drop as tension releases. "I have the hydrological simulation software configured the way I want it and am borrowing time on a mainframe to test it against historical data while I continue tweaking. I may be able to start placing sensors as early as next week to fine-tune it. How is your genetic sequencing going?"

"Still have a pile to do, but I've got all the plants in the lab and four different species of algae so far. Three of 'em totally unique. **Way** unique. Almost **alien** unique. Apparently whatever bled out out of Hound and maybe Mafui'e was mutagenic. I'm not **totally** sure yet, but I think one of the ones I haven't sequenced yet is actually kinda carnivorous."

"Carnivorous algae?"

"I put a couple colonies in a dish with some standard plankton for giggles yesterday. This morning there was a lot more of sample type and none of the control type. I couldn't even find any of the pieces or trace chemicals. I'm **pretty** sure the controls were **eaten** and not dissolved." Newt suddenly doubles over to peer into the algae from point-blank range. "Dude! We have flesh-eating algae! This is going to be an **awesome** paper!" Without straightening, he starts scribbling on a notepad. "Do we have any leftover meat? I wanna see what it does to animal tissue!"

Hermann sighs. "I'll check the back of the fridge."

"Find me **something** and I'll make you a co-author." He freezes with his hands poised above the algae sample. "Duuuude, this'll be my first non-Kaiju paper since 2015. It's the start of a whole new era!"

"Some things will remain the same, such as a collection of slimy samplesliable to kill us both while all the same inhabiting our shared workspace."

"The way science should be!"

"If I find **any** of it it my space or, god forbid, the kitchen refrigerator, I will take myself and my work into town."

"Whoa! No need to worry, dude! It's going in the saltwater section in the far corner **right now**."

Hermann sniffs and makes his way to the kitchen.

Newt hums as he transfers some of hungry algae to a new, larger container.

"Here. I believe this was a chicken … limb." Hermann passes over a plate.

"Perfect! Well, pork would be a better human analogue, but this will work fine. Thanks." Newt drops the meat into the algae tank. "Could you put frozen pork on the supply list?"

Hermann sighs and shuffles back to his office.

" **Wait**! What if the carnivorous algae **isn't** a mutant local life form? What if it started as a hitchhiker **on** the Kaiju? It might be a biological terraforming agent! Wipe out the locals and secrete chemicals that make the area more hospitable to the potential new owners."

Hermann's expression darkens. "There was nothing about those beasts not designed to kill."

"Not even their freakin' skin conditions. Jesus." Newt shakes his head. "Amazing. Guess my first non-Kaiju paper will have to wait."

Out of the corner of his eye, Newt catches Hermann shudder as he turns away. _Have my samples always—_

_*ka-pwing!*_

Newt dives across the lab and slaps the screensaver off his laptop.

He doesn't recognize the sender's email address.

He opens it anyway.

> **From:** Bastien G (sanmonbunshi@touque.net)  
>  **Sent:** Friday, March 9, 2025 @ 12:42 NZT (23:42 GMT) from London, United Kingdom  
>  **Encryption:** Gamma  
>  **To:** wassermolch (sparrow@drsg.kiwi)  
>  **Subject:** Post
> 
> Newt:
> 
> I'm sending a present. There's an enveloped inside; HIDE. IT. If Hermann sees it he'll kill us both.
> 
> Bastien.

Newt stares. "What the hell?" he mumbles. "The younger Gottliebs: Men of mystery."

He deletes the message and dashes off a quick note to Tendo about possible domestic help.

Then he loses himself in setting up for the next round of DNA sequencing, starting with the killer algae.

Newt stops work a little early to ensure he beats Hermann to the kitchen. Dinner preparation and the meal end without flames.

As the two change for sleep, Hermann freezes beside the bed, expression blank.

Newt is at his side in an instant, eyes huge with concern. "Hermann? What's wrong? You okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Hermann squeezes his eyes tightly shut and shakes his head. "It was only an unwelcome daydream."

"One of my memories?"

Hermann eases himself into bed. "Yes."

"Why are you so dead set against looking through them?" Newt cocks his head.

"It is not my place to pry in your mind."

"They're in your mind now, too, right?"

Hermann frowns.

"Dude, it will help with the intrusive thoughts. Just get it over with." Newt gestures welcomingly. "I've had a pretty good life, there shouldn't be anything **too** traumatic in there. I mean, I've pretty much lived on easy street compared to you."

"It's not so much your traumas I fear, it's seeing your happiness."

"My happi— **What**? That's … that's **messed** up, Hermann. You're afraid of seeing me **happy**? **Why**?"

"The comparison between our pasts will be … painful."

"Yeah, maybe, but you'll come out with happy memories. They'll feel like yours."

"But they won't **be** mine. Those things will not have happened to me. All I'll see is how different I am. Again."

"Dude, we're **all** different."

"Don't be so intentionally thick. No one is quite my sort of different."

"Yeah, **so**? No one's **my** sort of different, either!"

"You **chose** your difference! I did not!"

"Oh, right. I **definitely** picked bipolar off the menu! 'That looks like **fun** ,' I said! I want to go crazy someday and spend my life with people **waiting** for me to go crazy! I totally **wanted** to be the smartest guy my age on the U.S. east coast so that **both** kids and adults thought I was a **freak**!" Newt, red-faced and breathing hard, clenches his fists at his sides. "A **lot** of what I saw inside that head of yours felt **awful** familiar. We've **both** always been outsiders. Dude, **I get it**."

Hermann glares back.

Newt counts to ten.

Hermann's shoulders slump and wings droop. "I apologize. That was unfair and uncaring of me. We do have quite a bit in common when it comes to isolation. I-I've … seen a few of your experiences with it, quite by accident."

"Seriously, Hermann, you really should go through them all. It'll make avoiding arguments like this easier, at least."

"I thought you enjoyed the arguments."

"I enjoy arguing, but this sort of argument **sucks**."

"We have that in common, as well."

An awkward silence stretches.

Newt snaps his fingers.

Hermann startles.

"Oh, yeah! Tendo wrote me back this afternoon. He's sending over a pair of housekeepers in the morning. You want to instruct them in household etiquette or leave it to me?"

"Two?"

"Yeah. A minion for each of us."

Hermann rolls his eyes. "I'll take care of their orientation. The very last thing **you** need is a minion."

"You want **both** minions? Sounds like **someone** wants to be a supervillain after all."

"May I remind you which of us is feeding leftovers to a carnivorous alien biofilm?"

"Only so I can figure out how to kill it!" Newt grins. "Maybe your cooking will do the trick. Tendo's people can make us food and you can whip up batches of algaecide."

A muscle in Hermann's jaw twitches. "Did Mister Choi mention if these min— new employees have skills beyond cooking?"

"I didn't ask. Guess we'll find out tomorrow morning."

"I suppose so." Hermann smiles slightly. "The overnight weather should be quite pleasant; perhaps we could sleep with the windows open?"

"Sure, but you have to keep me warm with those feather blankets you always carry around."

Hermann offers a crooked smile and raises a wing to make room for Newt.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the prompt:](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?thread=4621243#t4621243)  
> “The reason Hermann wears all those ill-fitting layers is that he needs something to hide the bumps made by his bound wings. And then he drifts with Newt.... Something upbeat and happy-ish would be preferred, please. Bonus: The wings play into the poor relationship Hermann has with his father.”
> 
> Music to set the mood: [Yo La Tengo, _I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One,_ Track 8, “Autumn Sweater”](http://youtu.be/UIkMeaAfIRw)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Typical Tropical Island](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184611) by [artificiallifecreator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallifecreator/pseuds/artificiallifecreator)
  * [Happy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296463) by [killerweasel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel)




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